Skin Deep
by Mystical Magician
Summary: A battle that should have finally killed Stephen instead launches him into a parallel universe. Exhausted from centuries as Sorcerer Supreme, he chooses instead to explore this new world in any animal form except human. If he'd hoped to avoid excitement, he really should have stayed away when he noticed an enormous explosion and falling metal armor in Afghanistan. Ironstrange.
1. Chapter 1

For once, I have no plan, and no idea where this is going. Usually I have at least a vague outline, or climactic scene to work towards. Or a plot. Your guess on what's going to happen is as good as mine at this point.

* * *

The winds that weren't winds tore at him in the empty space between dimensions. The faint, trailing scream of, "Doctor!" lingered in his ears, but this time he didn't fight. He gave in and fell. His successor was ready, yet another threat defeated, and he was just so tired. No one even remembered his first name anymore. None of his order asked him for it.

It seemed an age, as nothingness pressed against open wounds, and it didn't matter if his eyes were opened or closed, the scenery didn't change. He should be more patient, after so many centuries alive. Threat after threat defeated, and each one tearing away a piece of himself until he felt riddled with holes as he struggled to hold onto his title and kept failing to live up to that first oath. Not to mention the chronic pain that he should be accustomed to, but that hurt no less throughout his too-long life.

He should be more patient, but he wasn't. Surely his end would finally come. Soon.

He felt himself hit…something. Nothing physical, and yet it somehow felt soft and elastic. Almost bouncy. By all means, he should have been flung back, but it was unlikely he actually had any sort of momentum. Just the illusion of it. Just his mind tricking itself into experiencing something that made sense.

This whatever it was – dimension, it must have been, though he'd never traveled like this before, which might explain why he was so confused by it – seemed to almost cradle him. It sucked him in, slowly, and he resigned himself to whatever happened next. Maybe this was what it took to finally remain dead.

Too much to hope for, apparently.

He didn't know if he passed out or simply blinked, but suddenly he lay in a field of grass, blinded by the sun. He groaned – mostly in pain, only a little in disappointment – and turned over to hide his face in the ground. Through bleary eyes, he could barely make out just how torn and dirty his robes had become. The unmistakable bloodstains were vaguely irritating, as were his open wounds.

He sighed and let the tension flow out of his body. Focused on his senses. He might as well get some idea of this world.

It felt similar to his Earth. Though, it lacked the buzz of the technological metropolis his world had become. He had to concentrate to sense the background hum of technology present, so either he was in a time period long before his end, or long after. Assuming history was as similar as this world felt.

He let his mind drift for a long while, waiting for the energy to move. Then for the motivation.

At last he heaved himself upright and sighed. He should at least explore his new...home, he supposed. But he was so tired of being responsible. Of being in charge, and looked to. So tired of being Doctor Strange, Sorcerer Supreme. Of just being himself.

Moments later, a pale-eyed raven took to the air in a flurry of black feathers.

It should probably worry Stephen that the only time he took human form anymore was either cleaning up after hours at a local Y or the equivalent, or to do research in libraries. If he were in a better frame of mind, it probably would.

As it stood, he felt content in any shape but his own. Shapeshifting had come to him with nearly the same ease as astral projection. Whatever it took to escape his body. His favored forms were generally a raven or a raptor in the air, or a cat if he was slinking through city streets. Animals too big or intelligent to be easy prey. Then he could take a backseat to the animal instincts and just not think. Not worry. Easily find a hidey-hole to hunker down in when the ache in his hands, or paws, or wings flared up.

This world wasn't so different from the one he'd known. He couldn't remember all of the details, of course – World War II, for example, had names and battles that he didn't recall studying in his long-ago youth, and it was a toss-up whether or not that was a fault with his memory. Likewise, were Sokovia and Wakanda new countries, or had they just been renamed? But the big things seemed to be the same.

Once Stephen felt a bit more settled and less ignorant, he flew the one-day journey to Greenwich Village in New York. He'd felt the mystical shield around the Earth almost immediately, of course, but his long guardianship of the New York Sanctum compelled him to take a look in person. Even if he had no intention of making himself known.

He begged for his dinner as a cat, and then perched as a crow on the building across the street from 177A. He ruffled his feathers and settled. It was quiet, but it was definitely and recognizably the New York Sanctum. Not under his own mastery, of course. His counterpart had died early in this world, and even then, if history followed, Stephen Strange would not have made it to Kamar-Taj for a few years. The different feel of the magic and warding reflected whatever Master was in charge now. Master Drumm, he assumed.

Stephen considered entering. It wouldn't be hard, although doing so undetected might be. He could do it, no doubt. But it would be a tedious and time-consuming, and it would ultimately leave the Sanctum just that little bit more vulnerable. Not worth his curiosity. Nor his sudden desire to peek at Kamar-Taj. Just to see. Just to be sure that it really wasn't too different. That the order's goals were the same.

He cawed in irritation and launched himself into the air, too far away to hear glass shattering within the Sanctum. Time to figure out a way to Nepal without a sling ring or convenient gateway.

Stowing away on a plane with the pets in luggage was made much easier with magic, although it wasn't entirely comfortable. Probably more comfortable than trying to fit his lanky frame into a seat on the plane, though.

Stephen had felt a sense of nostalgia when he wandered the streets of Kathmandu as a large, pale-eyed mutt. He could have flown and avoided the crowds, but he preferred standing on solid ground when he tried slipping through any sort of ward. Secretly, he also liked the occasional pat that he wouldn't get as a bird. It had been a long time since he'd had much positive physical contact, and people were almost always friendly with dogs. Several days before, he'd also spent what might have been hours curled up as a cat against a homeless woman in Central Park.

Now he sprawled beneath a tree on the edge of the courtyard, head resting on his paws. He'd watched two classes in the hours since arriving, and was just beginning to think about searching for dinner. The sound of footsteps on stone behind him had his ears twitching and his head perking up to see who was approaching.

The flash of yellow robes, color washed out by a dog's vision, prompted his tail to wag slowly. He had spent so little time with this woman, learning from her, and yet she had had such an enormous impact on his life.

"I thought you might be getting hungry," the Ancient One said with a serene smile. She placed a bowl of water and a dish of rice and goat meat in front of him, then settled on the ground at his side.

Stephen's tail wagged a little harder, though he was cautious enough to keep most of his attention on her as he ate. He didn't know if she knew who he was, exactly, but she certainly knew him to be a sorcerer.

Once he finished eating, the Ancient One ran a firm hand down his spine, and then gently began stroking his head and ears. Stephen leaned against her, relaxing almost against his better judgment. His muzzle rested on her thigh as he looked up, wondering what she was thinking.

She looked sad.

He resisted a little as her thumbs stroked along his skull just above his eyes. She murmured, "You look so tired."

Stephen huffed and closed his eyes. He was. He had no idea if he had even reached the Ancient One's age physically, but he suspected - thanks to his use of the Time Stone - that he had surpassed her mental age.

They sat together in silence for a long while. Stephen dozed off and on until a few of the apprentices began evening sparring practices in the courtyard. The Ancient One shifted, then, giving him one last scratch behind his ears and stroking a hand down his spine before standing up. She looked down at him and said, "You'll always be welcome here, Stephen, should you ever decide to stay."

His ears pulled back slightly, before returning to neutral. So she had known who he was, after all. He watched her move to monitor the apprentices, and wasn't all that surprised at her knowledge.

His mouth opened in a yawn, tongue lolling a bit as he shifted back on his haunches and stretched. Feeling more awake, he stood and decided to nose his way into the main building for further exploration. He had something like blanket permission for wandering from the current Sorcerer Supreme, after all.

Still, he preferred not to be noticed.

When he was certain no one was watching, between one step and the next, he shifted into a cat. Smaller, quieter, and more agile, he slunk into any room that caught his attention. Stephen hesitated only outside of the library, bracing himself for a glimpse of Wong, a man who had become one of his closest friends, and who had died so long ago. He was almost unbearably familiar with loss, and the grief never fully went away.

So to see a stranger behind the librarian's desk felt like his feet had been knocked out from under him.

Stephen crouched a little as his ears flattened, and his tail tucked up under him. He shook himself back into neutrality, fur still slightly bristled and tail a little too stiff. It was so much harder to keep animal body language under control. Thankfully, no one had seen him, and he scooted into the dimly lit stacks, wandering aimlessly as he calmed himself. Wong hadn't always been the librarian. It was just as likely that this was his predecessor, and Wong was somewhere else within Kamar-Taj, or taking a break from library duties. Stephen had no reason to think that he was dead, or had never existed here.

_Oh_, he thought, pausing abruptly by a book on defensive shields he'd never seen before. He memorized the location. Once he had the time, he'd have to remember to come back for it. He had felt the Ancient One slip a sling ring into his pocket somehow, despite him having been in animal form the entire time. It would be an interesting mental exercise to figure out how she did it when he got bored.

The rest of Stephen's explorations were perfunctory. He finished quickly, sensing nothing too untoward, and then headed for the kitchens. It was a warm place to curl up for the night, and he'd be able to eat breakfast right away and head out first thing.

_That's alarming_, Stephen noted upon noticing an enormous explosion of flames in the middle of nowhere, Afghanistan. He tilted his wings slightly to adjust his flight path toward the disturbance, and gained a bit of altitude in hopes of avoiding someone deciding to take a shot. If his eagle eyes hadn't noticed the clumsy metal thing shooting away from what was likely some sort of weapons cache, he might have avoided the place altogether. His wandering was mostly purposeless – disregarding rare nudges from his magic, or the universe, or what-have-you – but he actively tried to avoid imminent violence and probable terrorism.

But unless it was his imagination, that metal thing had been vaguely man-shaped and not well controlled. And Stephen was a doctor, first and foremost. Villain or victim, if it was a person, they were unlikely to last long out here on their own. He could decide what to do once he'd gained more information.

Plus, he'd never really been able to help his curiosity.

It didn't take Stephen long to spot where the metal thing had come down. Only a few feet away, covered in dirt, sweat, blood, and burns, a man staggered away from the ruins. He circled slowly, and tried not to screech in anger. It was easy for him to tell that many of those injuries were the result of torture, and he had no idea what to make of the glowing thing in his chest. But if it wasn't something simply attached to the skin, he had a very good idea of the trauma that could wreck on a body. Small favors; at least the man was smart enough to have managed a bit of cover from the sun for his head.

He looked vaguely familiar.

Stephen banked and dove out of sight behind the nearest hill. From there, he shifted into a wolf just large enough to help support the man should he need it, and then loped across the sand towards the probable escapee.

He slowed his approach when the man turned to look, tripped backward, and nearly fell.

"Shit. Shit! Uh, don't eat me, I promise I don't taste any good, you ought to be able to smell that, _fuck_, I'm attacked by my own fucking weapons, manage to escape the Ten Rings, and of all things, I'm about to be eaten by a _giant fucking wolf_. _I didn't even know Afghanistan had wolves_."

Stephen wondered if this man was always so talkative, or if it was just an accumulation of everything that had happened to him. But he recognized him now. For a while, he had seen his face on every news channel. Tony Stark of Stark Industries, missing in Afghanistan, was all anyone had been able to talk about. Even months later he caught snippets of speculation on radios and television as he passed through cities.

He was supposed to be a genius. Did Stephen really look like he wanted to eat him?

He approached slowly, and with exaggerated care. And if it looked like he was mocking Stark? Well, Stephen had never managed to improve his bedside manner much above condescending asshole.

Stark's eyes narrowed, his frightened and defensive posture mostly shifting into exhaustion and annoyance. "Great. Either I'm imagining things, or you're a fucking asshole."

Stephen snorted. He half-wished that he could roll his eyes.

Indignation warred with nervousness, and Stark's body was definitely strung tight when Stephen nudged him with his nose, and then gently leaned his side against him. It must be painful. Stephen almost hurt just looking at him, and his two front paws definitely made their aches known. He stood, not moving away and not pushing, as Stark slowly relaxed, and tentatively touched the fur on his back. Encouraged, he buried his calloused hand more firmly in Stephen's fur, and then sagged against the large wolf.

"Am I hallucinating?" he mumbled. And then, "You're either very well-trained, or you're very strange."

Stephen huffed, and then twisted to better examine the glowing circle in Stark's chest. This close, he could sense the energy coming from it, and it was...unusual. Powerful. And not exactly like anything he had felt before. His curiosity flared.

"Okay, yeah, that's strange, too," Stark grumbled. Discomfort, hurt, and lingering hints of fear were evident in his eyes and the tension of his body.

Stephen nudged him to get moving, and began steering them in the direction of the nearest town. Whatever else Stark needed, medical attention, a sterile environment, and access to water were the priority.

He kept close, though careful not to knock the man over. He was unsteady enough as it was, and Stephen soon needed to catch him as best he could to keep him from tumbling to the ground. His open wounds were bad enough, they didn't need more sand and dirt to contaminate them. Not to mention that he was a little afraid that Stark wouldn't be able to keep getting back up. What he'd managed so far was impressive as is, and Stephen doubted he'd guessed even half of what the other man had suffered through.

Stark got the idea quickly enough when Stephen nudged at his hand, and rested some of his weight on the wolf.

"Good dog," he mumbled.

Stephen did him the courtesy of assuming he was delirious and didn't snap at him, though he did growl in warning.

"So touchy," Stark muttered.

Infuriating. But not completely broken, at least.

They walked together through the sand for quite some time. Stark leaned more and more heavily on the wolf, and their breaks became more frequent. Stephen was trying to figure out how to find some sort of shelter for the two them from the noon sun, when he heard something new in the distance. His ears pricked up, muscles tensing and alerting Stark to the change.

"What?" he mumbled.

Stephen placed the sound at last. Helicopter blades. Hopefully friendly, but they really didn't have much choice. Stark needed help, and Stephen could defend them if pressed.

At last the helicopter was close enough for Stark to see and hear. He must have recognized it, or was just too relieved to care. He barked an almost hysterical laugh as he waved and let go of the wolf to stumble toward it, falling to his knees and raising one hand in a peace sign.

Stephen hung back. The moment he saw men exiting the helicopter with guns in hand, far enough away not to be able to see him in much detail, he shifted into a mutt. A dog was far less threatening than a wolf, and soldiers would hopefully be reluctant to shoot a probable pet. He did his best to seem non-threatening, and hoped that they weren't trigger-happy.

Judging by the reunion, Stark at least knew one of them well, so they must be able to get him to safety. He was just thinking about sneaking away when Stark turned back to him and did a double-take. Yeah, hopefully he would think it a hallucination or something caused by the heat, dehydration, or aftermath of torture. And if Stephen left now, he'd probably forget all about it.

So of course Stark opened his mouth to say, "We got room for this guy, don't we?"

"Tony…"

"Just look at him. You can't abandon him out here to die, Rhodey, look at him. He's basically skin and bones, and there's absolutely nothing out here."

"He is looking a bit ragged and malnourished," the soldier sighed.

Stephen was affronted. He did not look that bad. He turned to go, only to grunt when strong hands grabbed his sides and carefully pulled him back. "This guy helped save my life, I'm not leaving him behind," Stark said stubbornly. And if his voice cracked on the first half of that sentence, eyes darkening at some memory, well, no one said anything. And if Stephen went limp and nearly knocked the air out of Stark at the abrupt weight of him, well, that was just to show his displeasure.

He ignored the genius' calculating stare as he curled up on the floor of the helicopter. Stephen was confident that he could escape if it became necessary. Meanwhile, he could learn more about that glowing thing in the man's chest.


	2. Chapter 2

There were plenty of opportunities to slip away once they reached the military base. The soldiers on duty paid hardly any attention to him, and Stark was distracted with trying to keep the doctor away from his chest, getting into contact with people (lawyers, employees, or family, Stephen hadn't caught) as well as putting together some sort of NDA form for anyone who was examining him to sign. Much as he might try to keep an eye on Stephen or keep him out of the way behind closed doors, it would be a simple thing to disappear. He should, in fact.

He didn't.

He was too curious, and felt safe behind his animal forms. No one expected great and terrible things of him. No one relied on him. He was just a curiosity to Stark, and it would be easy to escape if he was the type to go mad scientist on innocent creatures.

So Stephen watched with some bemusement as Stark cajoled and bullied the medical staff into allowing a dog to stay in his room. He let Stark pet him during the examination, and grip his fur too tightly when it became too much for him. When his face drained of color, and he found it difficult to breathe. He let Stark coax him fully onto the bed and hold onto him when military personnel came to debrief him.

Stephen listened carefully to what Stark said, and caught what he didn't, filing it away along with all of the medical diagnoses that had confirmed many of his earlier assumptions. If the man found some measure of comfort in his new curiosity, then Stephen wouldn't begrudge him.

He also wouldn't admit just how nice the contact felt for him as well. Until he'd begun taking the form of a dog or a cat, he had rarely been touched with gentleness instead of pain.

Stephen dozed off after a while, sprawled across Stark's lap as the injured man slipped into a drugged sleep. He woke instantly when the door opened, and watched with interest as a woman dropped off a bowl of food next to the water that had been set aside for him earlier. He was careful not to jostle Stark as he slipped from the bed to investigate. Luckily, it seemed to be some sort of hamburger, carrot, and rice mixture, rather than the dry dog food he had feared. Though he supposed it would have been unlikely for the base to have dog food on hand. Unless there were any canine units, of course.

He'd eaten some sort of desert rodent raw not that long ago, letting eagle instincts take over when he'd begun to get hungry. But for whatever reason, dry dog food sounded more disgusting to him.

A few days later, Stephen was catching a ride back to the US without having to smuggle himself onto a plane. He'd intended to make it back to the states eventually – he still considered it home, after all. But a tug on his senses, a subtly developing nexus in the fabric of the universe had drawn him northward to Afghanistan. Now, with the escape and rescue of Tony Stark, that knot had resolved and left Stephen torn between his curiosity and his desire for peace.

What was it about this man? He was important, and it was not for his business, his fortune, or his genius. Or, not just those things. There were plenty of others like him, and no doubt there would be plenty more, in this world and his own.

If Stephen wanted peace, wanted a life without the world on his shoulders, he really should leave him.

Instead he leapt into the back of the waiting car, ignoring the irritation of Stark's driver, and the confused, distracted frown of his personal assistant. He remained there for the press conference, wanting nothing to do with reporters, and wondering what kind of idiot decided this was a better use of his time than checking in to an actual hospital.

Stephen's ire calmed a bit as he listened to the press conference on the radio with the driver – Happy. A hospital and a therapist would have been the smarter move, but he supposed that he could grant some leniency to a traumatized former weapons dealer who'd procured a fresh cheeseburger for him despite the protests of his companions.

The conference was surprisingly short. Stephen had been given to understand that they tended to take quite a while. All the better, though, when the main speaker was still recovering.

He sat up, tail thumping once or twice despite himself when Stark opened the door. Then he caught on to the berating tone of the larger, older man, and the cautious frown of the woman called Pepper. If his facial features were made for frowning, he would be doing so. He was biased, he knew, but as a doctor and a pacifist, he couldn't see why they were protesting so much. Especially if Stark was as genius with technological innovations as his reputation implied. As it was, Stephen grunted in displeasure and drew their attention.

"What are you doing with that mutt?" the man said in tones of disgust.

Stephen growled, and then, once Stark had slid into his seat, firmly nudged his hip in support, turning his back on the asshat. He had no idea who the guy was, but something about him grated. And not just the insult. Maybe it was the body language, or the tone, but he didn't understand why Stark put up with him.

Then again, he'd wondered several times since meeting him why anyone would put up with Stark, so…

But that was different. Stark, at least, did not give off the…skeevy…vibes this guy did.

"C'mon, Obie, he's helpless and adorable, and he helped save my life. How can you not love him?"

Something, some flicker of an expression or hint of a scent that Stephen couldn't quite decipher escaped from this 'Obie'.

"Sure, Tones, but you didn't have to bring it home with you. It's a lot needier than a robot, you know."

Stephen growled louder, and deliberately rested his head in Stark's lap where he automatically began stroking his ears. Some of the tension the businessman carried with him relaxed, ever so slightly.

"It'll be fine," Stark said dismissively. "I've got robots and JARVIS to help keep track of him. Besides, he's pretty smart and self-sufficient." That last, meaningful tone had Stephen looking up sharply to meet brown eyes that seemed to see far too much. He obviously hadn't dismissed his wolf form as a hallucination, then.

If Stephen was being honest with himself, he would have been disappointed if he had.

* * *

Even by Stephen's futuristic standards, an actual AI was a marvel. Especially once he'd begun to suspect JARVIS could pass the Turing Test. The holograms and robots found in the workshop were more along the lines of the technology that Stephen had become accustomed to, which made it extremely impressive and advanced for the current times.

Looking around at all of this, Stephen couldn't find any reason not to terminate weapons production and expand elsewhere. In fact, the thought of a mind so advanced focused on creating weapons decades ahead of their time was chilling.

He shook off the thought and completed his exploration of Stark's lab before returning to watch the man closely as he began doing something that must have been related to the arc reactor in his chest, given the measurements he'd taken with various instruments.

The man was surprisingly on top of things. Or perhaps he should attribute it to Ms. Potts. By the time they'd returned to Stark's mansion, everything necessary to care for a dog had been delivered and waiting to be put to use. Including a bag of dry dog food that Stephen was definitely not going to touch, and a collar that was certainly not going to remain around his neck, should Stark attempt to force the issue.

They didn't know each other nearly well enough for any sort of collar to be involved, thank you.

Deciding that Stark would be occupied for some time, Stephen decided to acquaint himself with the rest of the house. And if he could figure out where JARVIS didn't have cameras, all the better. Closed doors meant nothing to a Master of the Mystic Arts, so that exploration could extend to the probably extensive grounds as well.

He lost track of time memorizing every inch of his current residence, making note of all potentially defensible and vulnerable areas, and making certain that there were no potential mystical incursions. It was dark by the time he realized how hungry he was. He decided that the bowl of stew left out in the kitchen was meant for him and ate his fill before searching out his bed. Stephen eyed it for a while, trying to decide whether or not it would be demeaning, or whether he should claim one of the beds in a guest room instead.

With an internal shrug, he tested the dog bed and found it to be very comfortable, actually. And he was a dog right now, and a tired one at that. No shame in it.

Stephen was woken early in the morning by Ms. Potts coming to refill the water bowl. He yawned, and sleepily padded out of the bed to nudge at her hand in gratitude before drinking.

"I can't see this ending well," she sighed as she ran a slender hand through his fur. "You or JARVIS are going to have to remind Tony that you exist. Hopefully you're as independent as you seem."

He leaned into her gentle touch for a moment in reassurance.

"You don't even have a name, yet, do you?" she murmured wryly, kneeling down next to him. "You've been with Tony how long, now, and I bet he's just been calling you 'dog' or something. If he doesn't name you soon, you'll start thinking that is your name. I'm Pepper, by the way. Nice to meet you."

She looked a little startled when he bowed in greeting. He didn't shake hands if he could help it. Had become more and more averse to it over the centuries.

She was very kind. Stephen tried not to appear too ungrateful when he turned up his nose at the bowl of dog food and slipped out of the door behind her on his way to the kitchen.

He vaguely noted Pepper being called down to the lab, but he was more preoccupied with trying to figure out breakfast. He might have to bully Stark into feeding him, or at least not putting food into containers that he couldn't maneuver his way into. Granted, it would be less of a problem if he decided to be more open about his shapeshifting. Crows could be quite dexterous, after all, for all that they didn't have opposable thumbs. The creatures that did, well… Stephen had never actually tried shifting into any sort of monkey form, and had no desire to begin now.

He nudged his way into the lower cupboards, looking for something he could get into, while a corner of his mind dwelled on what, exactly, he was doing here. It had been some months since he had arrived in this dimension, and he hadn't actually planned for a future at all. Had focused only on the present because that was all he could handle. And maybe he couldn't spend the rest of his unnaturally long (possibly near-immortal) life as one animal or another, but he was content to do it until he tired of it or couldn't sustain it.

Stephen should really start thinking about warding and protection schemas if he ended up staying here for any length of time.

He was just about to get into the fridge, uncaring of just how suspicious that would look to JARVIS, when he heard Pepper stalk up the stairs from the lab. Her voice sounded unusually shrill, and when he went to investigate, he saw that she trembled almost imperceptibly. The instant she saw him, she stumbled over and dropped to her knees beside him. Heedless of the cleanliness of her business clothes, she wrapped her arms around him – one hand still holding something mechanical that shined a suspiciously familiar blue – and just held on, muttering imprecations under her breath. He remained still and let her, chin resting on her shoulder.

"Never, _ever_ again. Never doing that again. I'm going to kill him. Oh, God, I almost killed him," she muttered, sounding on the verge of tears. "Why didn't he get a goddamn doctor?"

That sounded alarming. What on earth had Stark done?

When Pepper pulled back at last, she appeared composed. The only hint of her distress was the faint redness of her eyes. "Thank you," she muttered, free hand rubbing at her temples before standing up with a sigh and a hint of a wince. "Um, good boy."

Stephen butted his head against her stomach and watched her return to the space she had set up for her work. Then he trotted down to the lab, wondering what the hell Stark was up to, and why Pepper had what looked like his arc reactor and smelled of disinfectant.

The door opened for him before he had to paw at it. He looked around suspiciously, eyeing the random chair setup with the discarded hospital gown. Stephen was already fairly sure he knew what had happened. He just couldn't make himself believe that Stark was that reckless.

No, he didn't _want_ to believe Stark was that reckless.

The idiot turned, and Stephen could see right away that the reactor embedded in his chest was different than before. He groaned and gave the most unimpressed look he could manage with a dog's face.

"Wow, what's with the face, pooch?"

Stephen snarled. He could stand any number of nicknames, but that one was just obnoxious.

"Okay, okay," Stark said placatingly, hands up in surrender. "Oh, what should I call you anyway? I just realized I haven't actually given you a name."

"That makes you fairly quick on the uptake this time, Sir," JARVIS commented.

"Hey, I called U by his name since the beginning," Stark protested.

"And yet it took you nearly a month to apply it as a name rather than a pronoun."

Stephen ignored the exchange. Communicating his name took a backseat to his current concern. He reared up on his hind legs, bracing his front paws against Stark's torso, though careful not to aggravate his injuries. He nosed at the new arc reactor, and did his best to communicate displeasure.

"Look, I definitely needed an upgrade. The last one was created in a cave from a box of scraps, for chrissake. Impressive, of course, but much better when I have actual, specialized materials, and a safe and familiar environment."

Stephen wished he could call Stark any number of names. Instead, he dropped back down onto all fours and went to grab the hospital gown with his teeth, shaking his head in an attempt to emphasize his point.

Stark's lips thinned. "I needed someone I could trust, and Pepper was already here. It's fine, it worked, and her hands were small enough for it."

Stephen dropped the gown with a gusty sigh. He still quietly growled his displeasure at the position he had put Pepper in, but he supposed that the idiot's position hadn't been any better either. Instead, he just herded him toward the couch in the corner, and then sprawled across his lap to keep him there. He was going to rest, dammit, even if he had to sit on him.

Stark looked amused, but he buried his hands in Stephen's fur and didn't protest. "So now that that's out of the way, and we've established that you can understand language and relatively complex ideas, just what exactly are you?"

Stephen had never met anyone who so successfully got under his skin. Something about his attitude, maybe, or the way he said things. He hadn't been completely hiding his abilities, after all, no matter that Stark sounded like he had discovered some deep, dark secret. He surrendered to his shape's instincts, but directed his actions with his human mind. Once Stark had noticed his shapeshift, and once Stephen had decided to stay for a while, he hadn't tried to hide the fact that he was unusual. He'd simply hidden just how unusual he was.

He bristled instinctively at the implication that Stark could see right through him.

He also resented the way that scratching behind his ear automatically settled him back down.

"How does it work, then? Are you either a wolf or a dog, and that's it? Or can you be any species of canine? Any animal? What are your limits there?"

Stephen considered his options. How open did he want to be? He looked around the lab. If there were cameras here, he hadn't had the chance to identify them. But this was the private lab of Tony Stark. Stephen didn't doubt that anything done in this place, anything created, or brainstormed, or repaired – anything at all – was locked down tighter than Fort Knox. This, of all places, was where Stark would demand absolute privacy. Which made him wonder a bit about why he was allowed in, and what Stark planned to do with him. But then, while he may be an intelligent animal, so far as the inventor knew, he was still just an animal, however unusual.

With all of this in mind, Stephen sat up. The hands on his back slipped away, and he shifted into a raven, glossy black feathers gleaming in the bright light.

The man flinched at the abrupt change, but held still while Stephen fluttered onto his shoulder.

He twisted to examine him, dark eyes gleaming with fascination. "Where did you come from?" he breathed. "Squishy bio science isn't really my thing, but you are definitely making a good case for studying it."

Stephen cocked his head warily. Had he made a mistake? His beak jabbed forward and yanked on Stark's fluffy hair in reprimand.

"Ouch!" He jerked away, but to his credit didn't respond with violence. "Okay, okay. I wasn't about to go mad scientist on you. Little bastard. That's going to be your new name if you keep acting like one.

"I guess I should figure out a backup one that you'll answer to, though. Calling for 'Dog', or something like it, might get a bit confusing and very inaccurate. Also, I'm better at naming things than that."

"Barely," JARVIS snarked.

* * *

Still no idea where this is going. A plot would be nice right about now. Sigh...


	3. Chapter 3

Stephen and Tony eventually settled into a routine of sorts as Stephen trained the man in the care of an intelligent, shapeshifting animal companion and, by default, imparted a few healthy habits on Tony himself. Regular meals, for one. Keeping hydrated. Occasionally sleeping in a bed rather than simply passing out at his workstation.

Stephen spent more time than usual as a dog. A number of people knew that Tony had taken a dog home with him, and so they couldn't be confronted with a menagerie of animals when one was already so out of character. But Tony had realized quite quickly that the shapeshifter preferred his cat form, and often commented that it suited him.

Stephen chose to take this as a compliment.

He had also managed to communicate his name to the inventor, which had required a bit of creativity and suffering through such gems as Tesla, Spot, and Oppy. He'd actually seemed a little disappointed when he'd landed on 'Stephen', and Stephen tried not to be too offended. Tony semi-regularly defaulted to calling him an asshole though, and if he'd been an actual animal, he had no doubt that he'd be very confused regarding what to respond to.

Occasionally, when Pepper was around, he would respond to the word asshole as though that was his name, just to see the looks she would give Tony. Not to mention the glares Tony would give him for deliberately getting him into trouble.

He settled into caring for a traumatized billionaire with poor coping habits, and being cared for in return. Much of the day was spent as a cat in the lab, watching an extraordinary suit of armor come together, or amusing himself with the bots or the occasional toy. Often, JARVIS would have a film playing on one wall, or give him the option of a large collection of audiobooks, if music wasn't being played loudly in the background. When Tony looked like he was suffering a flashback, dark thoughts, or had grown entirely too tense, Stephen would wind around his legs or clamber into his space and demand attention. He slept less in the dog bed, and more often curled into a ball against Tony's throat – a minor bit of magic ensured that he wouldn't be injured when the man thrashed in his nightmares.

It hadn't taken long for Tony to notice the extensive scarring on his front paws. Not when he'd stumbled across Stephen on a bad day compounded by the fact that he'd moved in exactly the wrong way. He'd curled up on his side into a tight ball, mind too far gone in the pain to suppress his whimpering or the instincts that had him compulsively licking his injured paws.

Tony had been horrified at the damage. Had even gently sifted through his feathers when next he was in winged form to confirm that all of his shapes included that old pain. He had spoken of taking him to a vet, had pleaded with him to choose a shape and just remain in it for the duration, but Stephen had made his protests obvious and unassailable.

Tony tried doing research then, with JARVIS' assistance, but Stephen had gently put a stop to that as well. There was nothing more to be done. He had lived with this for centuries, and he would likely live with it for centuries more.

The other man finally gave in with poor grace. Stephen suspected that he had JARVIS doing some research in the background regardless.

And when the sorcerer spiraled too far into his own head, when his skin itched with the need to escape, he would ride the wind above the cliffs on dark, predatory wings, allowing the immensity of the ocean view to consume him until he felt calm again. Until he was firmly entrenched in the present.

Sometimes his magic, or the universe, would tug him in one direction or another, alerting him to nearby mystical dangers. A lowly demon in need of exorcism here, a haunted residence there. Something testing the boundaries of this dimension in preparation of coming through. All minor inconveniences to someone of his power, and the only time anymore that he ever took his own form. It was a necessary workout, and a good way to deal with any lingering stress.

The order, the world, the universe was not on his shoulders any longer. Only the life of one man, and whether that was better or worse, it was what it was.

In between everything, Tony would run noninvasive tests, measuring energy readings and whatever else he could think of to figure out what Stephen was, how he did what he did, and where he had come from. As time passed, he was treated less like a well cared for test subject, and more and more like a roommate or a friend.

It reminded him a little of Wong, actually, when he'd finally given in and moved into the New York Sanctum. Except now Stephen was somehow the responsible one. It would've made his old friend laugh.

And Tony did make it so difficult to keep him alive. Even just the initial testing phase was fraught with peril. The way he'd blown himself into walls, it was a miracle that he hadn't broken his neck. Not to mention, who knew how many of his expensive sports cars might have been ruined if Stephen hadn't pounced to shove him away when he'd first practiced hovering? He hated looking at them, and had mindlessly clawed Tony's arm something awful the one time he'd tried to put him in one, but the thought of so much wasted money also made him feel a bit ill.

Never mind the whole 'run before you can walk' philosophy. For whatever reason, JARVIS had allowed the live audio of the conversation to play in the lab where Stephen waited. Tony's unabashed joy at his first flight had been infectious. He remembered his first thrill of flight, and with that came the memory of another lost companion, his faithful Cloak of Levitation.

Then, of course, the icing problem that had very nearly killed the reckless idiot, with a grand finale of smashing an enormous hole in his house. Thankfully just the one floor, as Stephen's magic had reflexively shielded the rest, his automatic reaction being to defend against attack. It was only a moment before logic reasserted itself.

By the time Tony took the long way back to his lab, Stephen had worked himself up. Pacing back and forth, tail lashing, claws out. Growling almost continuously.

Was this karma?

He bounded over, nose twitching as he checked for the scent of blood and found only small cuts. He brushed up against the armor, twining around metal legs as his magic checked the man over for any serious injuries. Tony stood still for his examination, perhaps afraid of hurting him with the heavy suit. He still twitched with adrenaline, and his expression was apologetic.

Stephen twitched too. Now that he knew the inventor was alright, he had nothing to distract him from Tony's brush with death. House cats were too small and quiet to get his point across and bleed off his anger, so he reared up, shifting into a mountain lion midway.

Tony shouted in surprise and fell back. The armor might have dented the floor, but Stephen wasn't paying attention. He just screamed his fear and fury. Afterward, he shifted back into an ordinary cat and nosed at Tony's temple to break him out of his shock.

"O-" His voice broke. He coughed and tried again. "Okay," he said. "Okay. Shit. That's, uh, fair. I'll try to be more careful."

Stephen snorted, but took it in the spirit with which it was meant.

Once the armor was off, Stephen spent the rest of the evening as a dog sprawled across Tony's lap, and then took up his usual position as a cat in the man's bed when it was time to sleep. Curled up against his pulse point beneath his jaw, Stephen at last gave in. He resigned himself to the fact that the idiot genius was a reckless idiot genius. And he resigned himself to the fact that he cared far too much for the all too mortal man.

What was one more pain? He should be accustomed to loss by now.

A grimace flitted across Stephen's face as he put his martial arts training to good use in avoiding the couple who had suddenly stepped into his path. The champagne sloshed a bit in the glasses on the large tray he held, but thankfully his abrupt movements hadn't completely transferred to the tray itself.

"Champagne?" he offered with an empty smile.

He hated having to dress up as serving staff. He was not a man made for customer service, and he had ample anecdotes to support that. Still, there was no better way to go unnoticed at galas and parties if he couldn't or didn't want to use magic.

Well, if he didn't want to use _too _much magic. It would be impossible to do without it completely, his hands being what they were. They had neither the strength to maintain a hold on a tray of glasses or plates, nor the steadiness to keep from tipping everything over. He was not actually holding a tray now; it hovered just barely above his hand. Even then, his wrist was beginning to ache from keeping it in position for an extended period of time.

It was just his luck that the potential tear in the dimensions was located somewhere inside the rooms used for the annual benefit, rather than any of the numerous other floors or backrooms.

There was a shift in the crowd, like a ripple in a pond. Stephen followed their attention towards the front doors and had to suppress a groan. But there was no real surprise. It might have taken him decades, if not centuries, but he liked to think that he was at least resigned to just how much the universe liked fucking him over.

Tony Stark. Creating waves with his first public appearance since the press conference on his return from Afghanistan, and who had given _no _indication earlier that he would be going anywhere_. Especially not to the same place Stephen needed to be_.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. His white gloves hid the unique scars on his hands. It was fine. This didn't change anything. Even on the off chance that Tony happened to do more than overlook him, it wasn't like the mogul would recognize him.

Stephen continued to slowly work his way through the crowd, pausing every now and then to get a better read of the energies in the air. It was difficult to get a clear sense of where he needed to go with so many people in a room, their personal energies mingling and clashing. Having to keep his metaphysical senses open in such chaos was giving him a headache.

He did, by chance, end up offering a glass to Tony at one point. He thought he'd gotten away without making any sort of impression, when the man glanced at him and did a double-take. For a moment Stephen feared that he'd given himself away somehow. But how? The only indication _might_ be eye color, but whatever other people may have said over his long life, his eye color wasn't that unique. Assuming people even looked him in the eye to notice it.

Then Tony gave him a slow and completely overdone once over in explanation. Stephen scowled, and felt his face heating – with anger, obviously. If he wasn't such a mature individual, and if he hadn't needed to avoid being noticed, he might have just gone with his first impulse and dumped the tray of drinks on the other man.

Tony noticed that suppressed impulse if his amusement was any indication. "Thanks…" he said leadingly, tipping his glass.

"You're welcome, Dr. Stark," he said. His professional smile may have shown a bit more teeth than usual. Perhaps spending so much time in animal forms did affect his true shape.

Stephen slipped away, barely catching Tony's low chuckle at him deliberately misinterpreting his desire for a name.

At last the sorcerer ended up on an unoccupied balcony, empty tray abandoned. He looked around with his third eye; the power emanated most strongly somewhere around here. At last he tilted his head back and noticed the tear just above him, invisible and intangible to the physical world. For the moment.

Also, tentacles. Why were such an inordinate number of interdimensional creatures tentacular?

These ones were shoving their way through and catching on the edges of the tear, straining to rip a larger opening. Stephen frowned as he examined it more closely. Unfortunately, it appeared to be working, albeit extremely slowly.

He looked around for a nearby chair or bench, and found nothing. Inconvenient but unsurprising. He sat on the ground in a darkened corner instead, out of the way and out of immediate line of sight. Even if someone did come out onto the balcony and happened to notice him… Well, it wouldn't be the first time he was mistaken for a drunkard. It had even been true, between his accident and his arrival at Kamar-Taj.

Stephen shifted a bit to find a semi-comfortable position that would keep him from toppling over, set up some simple wards for protection, and then escaped his body with a thought. Magic blossomed in his hands as he flitted forward. The partygoers within the building remained completely ignorant to the battle fought just outside.

Compared to the effort and time put into finding the incursion, it didn't take long at all to push the creature back and seal the rupture. Which wasn't to say it had been easy. He returned reluctantly to his body, joints aching from sitting on the cold floor, and a bone deep ache that was at least partly psychosomatic.

The voices filtering into his consciousness were his first indication that he was no longer alone. Familiar, male and female, speaking lowly over each other. Arguing, it sounded like, though it lacked some of the heat Stephen might have expected.

By the time who they were and what they were saying registered, Stephen had already begun stretching his back and neck. His joints popped, immediately garnering the couple's attention. Stephen froze and looked back, wishing he'd just waited inconspicuously. "Awkward," he commented when the silence stretched.

Shrugging to himself and deciding to hell with it, he rolled gracefully to his feet without the use of his hands. He brushed off the seat of his pants, tugged the bottom of his jacket, and nodded to the both of them as he took his leave. "Mr. Stark. Ms. Potts."

"Hold on, buddy," the businessman said sharply. "What were you doing lurking in a dark corner instead of serving drinks?"

"_Tony_," Pepper hissed.

Stephen suppressed a groan. He just wanted to get out of here. Was that too much to ask? Tony's paranoia might be well-earned, but it was surprisingly irritating when turned on him.

"I was hardly '_lurking_'. And as the CEO of a company that employs hundreds of workers, I would have assumed you were familiar with mandatory breaks for employees who work a certain number of hours."

Tony stepped closer, sharp gaze never leaving his face. "Yeah, alright, smartass. I'm also pretty certain that there are staff break rooms."

Stephen refused to back down and shifted closer himself. "Which are not, in fact, mandatory." He gave the millionaire a sharp-edged smile.

Neither of them noticed Pepper's incredulous eye-roll.

"So you're seriously telling me that you prefer sitting one a dark concrete balcony. Doing nothing."

"I fail to see how any of this concerns you."

"It fucking concerns me when I've got some shady opportunist hiding out and waiting for some sort of scandalous gossip or blackmail, or something."

Stephen snarled and leaned further into Tony's space, voice low and intense in his frustration. "If I wanted gossip, I would be making the rounds of that crowd in the ballroom. If I wanted blackmail, I'd hang out by the bar. And if I really wanted scandal, I'd choose dark corners that are not balconies within full view of almost _everyone_ in the room."

He gestured widely with one hand before he could help himself. "I have absolutely zero interest in your…_lifestyle of the rich and famous_."

Stephen spun around and stormed away before he could make himself even more memorable. He was trying to be inconspicuous, damn it!

"Wow," he heard Pepper say, slightly stunned and…amused? "Even in my worst nightmares, I never imagined two of you existed in the world."

"I am nothing like that asshole!" Tony responded indignantly. "And he didn't even give me his name, damn it."

Stephen had no idea what had happened to Tony after he left, but something must have. He had returned in distress not long after Stephen had, and then taken off almost immediately in his armor. It was midday when he heard the other man coming into the house again.

By the time a cat padded into the lab, Tony was surrounded by robot arms tugging at the pieces of his armor while he wiggled and complained. Stephen leaped onto a counter for a better view, the movement catching Tony's attention. Were those bullet holes? What on earth had he been doing? A quick scan showed no injuries other than cuts and bruises, thankfully.

"Oh, what, you're just going to watch and laugh, huh?" he said accusingly.

If Stephen could have laughed, he would have. Tony looked ridiculous. It probably would have made things easier if he would just hold still. Instead he settled in for a show, which was interrupted when he took notice of Pepper's rapid approach.

Stephen leaped back down to the floor and flopped on his belly as a dog, chin resting on his paws and tail thwapping the floor.

Tony frowned down at him in curiosity, opening his mouth to speak when the lab doors opened. He looked up to see Pepper staring at him from the doorway, and appeared very much like a child with his hand in a cookie jar.

"What is going on here?"

Based on his expression, Tony didn't even bother searching for a good explanation. "Let's face it," he said, "this is not the worst thing you've caught me doing."


	4. Chapter 4

Stephen wasn't surprised when Tony was plagued by nightmares that night. He suspected that this recent adventure had served as a violent, stressful reminder of his time in captivity. Stephen was certainly reminded of his own early days, and the shock of violence. The agony of snuffing out a life. The other man may not have sworn the oaths that Stephen had, but he was still a civilian who had seen torture and combat.

This was something Tony had to work through, but that didn't mean he had to be alone. Stephen did his best to soothe him, curling up on his collarbone above his damaged sternum and purring as loudly and constantly as possible. He nudged at his hand when he was awake, demanding to be pet because he knew how soft fur and a warm, fragile body could provide some ease to a person in distress.

And if it also provided _himself_ with some comfort, well, he would never tell. He had always been a selfish man.

Whenever Tony worked on his suit of armor, he seemed almost as a man possessed, incorporating repairs, upgrades, and new features. Stephen could understand. It wasn't just a safety blanket, nor a desperate distraction. Tony had been reborn with new purpose in that Afghan cave, only to be stalled by his own board for months. He felt useless, held back and set adrift, and all the while haunted by experiences that he refused to – or could not – speak of. Now he had not just a goal, but new motivation. He could _do_ something, finally, in between searching for the mole and their under-the-table dealings, and waiting to take charge of his company and its future.

Stephen didn't often leave Tony these days, and rarely for long stretches of time. He became more consistent about forcing him to eat semi-regular meals by demanding food when he got hungry, rather than scrounging for himself.

"Don't think I don't know that you could manage your own meals without me," Tony grumbled to him more than once.

Rather limited meals, unless he decided to use his own form for cooking. But at least Tony had never attempted to feed him dog food after the first time. And it wasn't like it took him much time to get the food ready. He usually either made smoothies, reheated food, or ordered takeout, all with far greater ease than Stephen could generally manage as an animal, even using magic.

"I'm just going to assume that you know better than to eat something that will kill you," had been Tony's only judgment. A potentially dangerous sentiment if Stephen had actually been an ordinary pet. "God only knows what your digestive system is capable of with you switching between species."

It was such a small thing, to take care of this man. And so difficult at the same time, even working alongside an AI and what felt like a fleet of robots. But it was a task Stephen had taken upon himself. Something so much more manageable than the safety of a dimension, less painful and at least as rewarding.

He'd learned long ago not to dwell on the inevitable. The danger that Tony was in. The danger Tony put himself in. And even if he lived long enough to pass away of natural causes, Stephen was functionally immortal. He was always going to lose the other man. Especially when he considered how he'd met him. The interest the universe had taken in him, the ripples in its fabric that had led the sorcerer to him. Stephen was experienced enough to realize that this man and his armor were the beginning of something.

He did his best to focus on the present. He'd tried living as a hermit in the past. Tried not to get too close to anyone. Not only did he fail spectacularly, the regret had been almost crippling.

* * *

Stephen did not like Obadiah Stane.

He did not like the way he spoke to Tony. The way he stood too close. The way he touched too much, his grip too hard. The proprietary, almost possessive way he looked at Tony when he wasn't paying attention, as if he owned the younger man. The cold look in his eyes that betrayed his false smile, the overbearing joviality of his voice.

Tony didn't seem to see it. Couldn't see it, perhaps, having grown up with this man as his uncle figure. Having been conditioned to trust.

Stephen didn't trust him. He stuck by Tony's side whenever Stane was around, and made his opinion known. He made himself appear larger, held his body stiffly, and growled to keep the larger man back.

It worked, to a point. He could feel Stane's hatred like a physical thing, though the businessman had only once made the mistake of pressing Tony to put him down. He'd backtracked quickly in the face of Tony's anger.

Which was why he just stood there, watching and considering his options, as Stane opened the back door and tempted him with a steak bone.

"Come on, boy. Come on. Don't you want a nice, big, juicy bone?" he said in that patronizing, overenthusiastic tone some people used with dogs. "Still fresh. Still got some meat on it." He waggled it.

Stephen gazed at the bone contemplatively, but didn't move yet.

"Come on, mutt," Stane said lightly. He moved closer and reached for him, muttering about the lack of collar.

Stephen skittered back, not missing the frustration and anger at the movement. The man stepped back again, closer to the open door.

"You know you want it." He stretched out the hand holding the treat. Just how stupid did he think he was?

Stephen huffed and decided to play along. At the very least, he'd get an answer as to what, exactly, Stane was up to. Probably not poison, although he was definitely going to check before he actually put anything in his mouth. He let his gaze fasten on that bone, tail slowly beginning to wag as he stepped closer.

"That's it," the man murmured, waving it temptingly. "Come here."

As soon as Stephen was almost within reach, Stane gently tossed the bone outside.

Stephen followed with little enthusiasm, half wishing he could roll his eyes. The door closed the moment he cleared it, nearly catching his tail. A glance over his shoulder showed him Stane's back as the man immediately abandoned him.

He nosed the bone as his magic checked it for poison and it came back clean. So the businessman just wanted him out of the house. Probably thinking it would lock him out, considering Tony hadn't installed any sort of dog door. Pepper commented on it occasionally, which then reminded Tony that dogs did need to regularly go outside, and that he had no idea how Stephen was getting in and out.

She also commented on putting his food out in a bowl so he could actually eat, the lack of a collar, and grooming, among other things, giving Tony a better idea of how ordinary pets worked, and just how strange his own was.

It was a simple thing to will the door open and race to where Tony had been fidgeting on a couch and frowning at his phone. He had missed learning whatever Tony was worried about, but he knew that Stane was up to something.

A high-pitched, unbearable, all-encompassing sound dropped him just outside the living room. He yipped in pain, and though his throat vibrated with his whines, he could hear nothing as he twitched on the floor. Stephen tried to focus, to concentrate. Pain was nothing new, he should be able to fight it. But his body remained frozen, paralyzed, as he felt the fur near his ears grow damp with blood.

He thought Stane might be saying something. He hovered over Tony, far too close with some sort of mechanical…thing.

_Fight!_ Stephen tried to command himself. Where was JARVIS? Why wasn't he saying anything? He grew more frantic as he watched the villain rip out the very thing that was keeping Tony alive. He'd been foolish. Complacent, or maybe overconfident. He'd known that Tony's life was in danger, that someone had tried to have him killed, and now it was happening in front of him and he was helpless.

No. Not helpless. His magic flooded Tony as Stane turned away. He narrowed his eyes upon seeing the limp dog, said something Stephen couldn't hear, and kicked him sharply as he walked by.

Stephen felt ribs crack. He yelped and snarled, wishing he could repay him threefold. But Tony was starting to look alarmingly gray. Tony came first.

Stephen's magic stabilized the shrapnel in the inventor's chest. He wasn't entirely certain how the device that Stane had used to paralyze them worked, so he was leery of blindly attempting to treat Tony's symptoms. He focused on his own paralysis first, repairing the damage to his ears and flushing its influence from his nervous system. His ribs screamed as he leapt to his feet with a snarl.

He had a choice to make – but it was no choice at all. Much as he would like to take down Stane, as likely as it was that he would succeed with enough time to get back to Tony, Tony was the priority.

Stephen raced for the lab where the spare reactor was being displayed, ignoring the way it felt like his broken bones ground together. The glass box was just a bit too big to carry in his mouth, so he shifted to his larger wolf form instead to scoop it up. He cleared several stairs at a time as his near panic pushed him to get back to Tony's side as soon as possible.

It appeared the man was beginning to regain some of his mobility. He'd fallen off the couch and was making small, sporadic movements in an attempt to crawl towards his lab. They seemed to have had the same idea.

Stephen twisted his head and reared up to give himself a bit more momentum to fling the box against the floor and shatter it.

"Good boy," Tony slurred as he reached a poorly responsive hand for the miniature arc reactor lying among the shards of glass. "Good…good wolf. Stephen."

It took a few tries, but he managed to fit the reactor into his chest, and Stephen let the spell stabilizing the shrapnel drop a moment before it clicked into place. Tony collapsed on his back, gasping as he waited for the effects of the paralysis device to wear off, and Stephen dropped as well, head resting on Tony's belly as he panted shallowly and tried to ignore his cracked ribs.

Tony eventually pushed himself upright, still trembling from shock and adrenaline. His eyes were suspiciously watery as he threw his arms around Stephen's torso.

Stephen yelped in pain and flinched away before he could stop himself.

"Sorry, sorry," the man said hastily. "Shit." He placed his hands on either side of the wolf's head, gently covering his ears where Stephen suspected blood still stained his fur. Tony gently touched his forehead to his, eyes squeezed shut as his thumbs made circular motions against his temple. "That bastard kicked you, didn't he?" he murmured darkly. He gritted his teeth in rage, but was careful wherever he touched Stephen. "Probably broke something."

When he opened his eyes again, he was glaring in thought. "I'll break something back, don't you worry Stephen."

He stood up, body almost vibrating with suppressed energy. "I've gotta go, but I'll get you checked out by the best of the best when this is over." He gave Stephen one last scratch on the head. "Take it easy, please."

Just as Tony began to leave, Stephen caught the sound of someone approaching. He whirled around to face the door with a snarl, barely remembering to shift back to his dog form for the moment.

Tony tensed in response, expression hardening as he slid out of direct line of sight.

"Tones?" a man called. He sounded familiar.

The troublesome billionaire relaxed and stepped to greet someone Stephen hadn't seen in a while.

"Rhodey," Tony said in relief.

The military man eyed Stephen warily. "He okay?"

Tony reached down to rest a hand at the base of his neck. "He's probably got injured ribs, but we'll be fine. We're just jumpy since Obadiah attacked us."

"What?"

Tony explained quickly, urgency reigniting at the reminder of danger. He cursed when he was told that five agents had gone to arrest his business partner, and raced to his lab with Rhodes on his heels. The agents weren't going to be enough. Not with what Stane had stolen from him. They had no idea what they were walking into.

Stephen missed some of the exchange, distracted as he was with making plans of his own, with his pain, and with the sense of the universe paying attention, expectations weighing heavy on an oblivious man's next steps. If he hadn't yet picked out that Tony Stark was connected to some important future event, for some reason woven into the fabric of the universe, he couldn't fail to do so now.

So Stephen's desire to keep him alive, whatever it took, had nothing to do with his personal feelings. That he didn't mind the man's company, perhaps even liked him, well. That was just a rare happy bonus.

Stephen arrived on scene at the factory at the tail end of the fight. He'd had a difficult time tracking Tony down. Despite originally going home with Tony for the chance to study the energies of the miniature arc reactor, he'd done very little in the way of that. As such, he hadn't realized just how difficult it would be to track him. For something so powerful, it should have shone like a beacon. Instead, he caught only muddied glimpses. Perhaps that was part of the reason why his wards weren't being tested daily, and he hadn't needed to defend his home from curious or greedy sorcerers and interdimensional beings.

Tony's. Tony's home.

He kept to the shadows, trying to decide if his intervention was necessary. The last thing he wanted was to show up on the radar of any sort of government agency. Not to mention, his sudden appearance might distract Tony at a crucial moment. He ducked around a corner, out of sight from the factory, and leaped into the air. His movements were stiff, pain flaring despite the wrap he had conjured to hold his ribs in place. But he gritted his teeth and used his magic to propel himself higher than humanly possible. At the peak of his jump, silent wings caught the air. An owl glided towards the battle, doing his best to stay out of the path of any flashing, sweeping lights.

He faltered in shock when something inside exploded and a column of light shot up into the air out of the skylight Tony and Stane hung from. The owl's instinct to flee nearly took over in Stephen's distraction, but he reasserted control and dove onto the rooftop. His knees ached a bit at the hard landing, but he kept his footing and raced to where Tony lay unconscious.

His arc reactor was flickering and going dark.

"Shit," he muttered. "Shit." His hands fluttered, magic hesitantly brushing against Tony's reactor. He hadn't wanted to do this. Hadn't had any intention of prodding at the arc reactor while it was in his chest. That was why he'd paid so much attention to where the spare had been, hoping for a chance to examine it more thoroughly with his magic. To at the very least figure out that nagging hint of familiarity he felt from the energy.

No time now. Not for mistakes. Not for experimenting. He had to get it right, and he had very little idea of what he was working with.

Stephen placed a palm over the dark chest piece, willing it to light up on its own. It didn't. Of course it didn't.

He sunk the barest hint of his power into the energies of the arc reactor. Tried to guide it without forcing it, hoping that there were banks or pathways – something that it could follow automatically. Wielding magic required surrendering to the current. Perhaps the energies here were similar enough in that regard. He fed it, a little more at a time, until he thought…yes!

The light in Tony's chest lit up, and Stephen almost collapsed in relief. "Idiot," he muttered, bowing his head enough that he winced when it hit the damaged armor, his breath catching in pain as his ribs shifted. "You're such a fucking idiot. All you do is cause explosions and fly through the air almost exactly the way a brick does. Here's a hint: when you throw yourself at the ground, you're supposed to miss, you fool."

Stephen quickly and efficiently checked Tony's breathing and pulse, both of which were thankfully normal. Trying to figure out CPR with Tony's chest the way it was would have been a nightmare, and probably impossible. A quick check for broken bones or internal bleeding with his magic easily bypassed the barrier of the armor. He was just checking for a concussion when Tony began to rouse.

Stephen glanced down to remind himself what he was wearing and barely remembered to switch to street clothes. And disposable gloves as an afterthought. Bad enough Tony would see him here of all places. No need to stand out further. If only the paramedics were faster, the inventor wouldn't have caught him here at all.

"Keep still, Stark. I'm trying to make sure you haven't been too severely injured." He tried for reassuring, and settled for competent. Close enough.

"Wh – you…you. Were you just insulting me?"

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "You're accusing me of insulting an injured and unconscious man."

Tony glowered, and flinched away when Stephen reached for his face. "That wasn't a 'no'," he said.

"Hold still," he commanded. Seeing that that wouldn't be enough, he sighed and added, "I'm doing a concussion check."

"Aren't you a freelance waiter slash possible journalist? Are you sure you're qualified?"

Stephen honestly couldn't suppress his indignant and outraged expression. As a formerly world-renowned neurosurgeon, no one was more qualified. Especially since he'd kept up on advancements in the field throughout the centuries. Not that it mattered what Tony thought. Why was it that he could so easily get under his skin when he was human? "As I am a doctor, and certainly not a journalist, I am very qualified."

"A medical doctor?" Tony clarified dubiously.

Stephen's jaw clenched. "Yes," he bit out.

"Then why were you waiter…ing? A waiter?"

"Call it a favor."

"Because I asked around, and no one knew who I was talking about."

He'd asked around? Exactly how bad of an impression had he made? "I suppose I just have one of those faces."

Tony barked a laugh, and then groaned in pain. "You definitely don't."

Stephen blinked, not quite sure how to react. "Right, if you would just hold still for a moment."

"Whoa, wait, hold up." Tony lifted an armored hand to ward him off, and Stephen yanked his own hand back before any accidental contact could be made. He did not want it to be struck by metal.

"What?" he said, exasperated.

"What kind of doctor are you with that sort of bedside manner?" Tony wondered, though more amused than offended. "I just wanted to know a name before you get your hands on my body. I think that's only fair."

Stephen ruthlessly suppressed a blush, and hoped his face was mostly hidden in the shadows. "Call me Strange," he said with a scowl. It would be tempting fate to tell him his first name, all things considered. "Now hold still."

"Yes, 'Dr. Strange,'" Tony said, obviously dubious about both his qualifications and his moniker. But he did let Stephen work, and it was only to his advantage if the inventor didn't believe it to be his real name.

"Wait, what the fuck are you even doing here?"

"I was passing by when I saw the tail end of your fight. I thought I'd better come and make sure that no one was injured too badly."

"Good Samaritan, huh?" Tony muttered dubiously. He turned his head slightly to look at the broken skylight, and huffed a laugh that sounded like a sob.

Stephen suspected he knew what he was thinking. "The other one is beyond help now," he murmured.

"Yeah," Tony said thickly. "I figured." He blinked rapidly and did his best to hide his emotional vulnerability. "So if you could, like, delay going to the media about this – about me for a few days, I could definitely pay you for your…your temporary silence. Probably permanent about some things, maybe, we can work out a deal when I'm not being checked for injuries, you know I'm good for it," he started babbling.

"Whoa, Stark. Stark," the doctor interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder in an effort to keep him calm and quiet. "I won't tell anyone. And you don't have to pay for my silence." At Tony's clear suspicion, he said, "Call it doctor-patient confidentiality. All of this. I'll even send you a signed NDA, if it makes you feel better."

The businessman didn't really have any other option than to agree.

In the end, Tony had gotten away with a minor concussion, which was something of a miracle. It was also rather impressive just how alert and lucid he was.

That was also about the time the ambulance arrived. Stephen managed to slip away from Tony and the approaching agents, pausing only long enough to ascertain that the paramedics were being directed to the roof.

It didn't surprise him when Tony avoided spending the night at the hospital, returning home in the early hours of the morning. Stephen lay stiffly on the couch, head on his paws. His tail wagged slightly upon seeing the man.

A document promising silence with his barely legible signature, as promised, waited in the man's mailbox, his first name deliberately illegible. He had made no effort to keep his hand steady for that part, and he didn't think even magic would be able to decipher it.

"Hey Stephen," he said softly, exhausted and aching, but so concerned for him. "Still hurting, huh? I think it's pretty safe to say that your ribs are broken."

So of course the billionaire's response was to wake one of the best veterinarians in the area for a private emergency consultation. Stephen couldn't help the surge of fondness at his over the top response. It came from a place of care and deep concern. He couldn't remember the last time he had been cared for like this, almost doted on.

Which meant Stephen was home, lying pampered on the bed when JARVIS played the conference of Tony going off script and announcing to the world that he was Iron Man. He huffed, unsurprised. JARVIS, who had gotten into the habit of occasionally responding to him, agreed with his sentiment. Stephen would smirk if he could.

Tony's name really ought to be 'Trouble'.


	5. Chapter 5

Stephen should have realized. Should have suspected. The dizziness. The nausea. He'd thought it was simply the aftermath of a concussion from one of Tony's missions. Then the result of Tony's occasional overindulgence in alcohol.

The sick, metallic cast had threaded through Tony's scent so gradually that he hadn't noticed. Had become accustomed to it as it increased, until the day he'd caught sight of the dark veins surrounding his reactor. He'd been frantic and demanding, switching between cat, dog, and crow for the loudest and most insistent sounds, until Tony shouted at him in irritation. And fear. The man had broken down and said out loud what was happening to him. Stephen realized only then just how badly Tony had been alternating between unusual clinginess and isolation recently.

Stephen was slipping. He was making too many mistakes. He despised incompetence in others, but he despised it most of all in himself.

Palladium poisoning.

Not for the first time, Stephen wished that magic was a cure-all. That it really could do anything, make anything possible. But healing was one of the most complicated branches of magic, and in many ways just as limited as modern medicine. Especially on someone who was not a sorcerer, and could not use their personal energy to assist. Not to mention, a cure for palladium poisoning was no help if the palladium could not be removed.

And if the palladium was removed, the shrapnel would kill Tony anyway.

If they – no, much as it galled him, there was little Stephen could do to help with this, although he wouldn't stop trying. If _Tony_ could not figure out something else to power his reactor, then his only options would be a slower, painful death, or a quick one.

Tony knew it, too. As one element after another failed, Tony's despair grew. Stephen stuck as close to him as possible to provide some sort of comfort, even when he lost control and flung his tools at the walls, but only a cure would make this better. Despite having come from an alternate future, the structures of the new elements created in that time that Stephen could remember were too unstable.

He'd tried. The Vishanti knew he'd tried. He had gone down to the lab when Tony was asleep and managed to communicate what he wanted to JARVIS with quite a bit of difficulty, until the AI had better learned to understand his body language, and provide holograms with a wider range of informational options. Whether JARVIS, like his creator, didn't quite understand just how unusual he was beyond the shapeshifting, or whether he simply chose not to speak of it to Tony, the inventor seemed to be completely unaware of Stephen's late-night efforts. Not to mention the fact that the shapeshifter's intelligence was leaps and bounds ahead of most humans, never mind animals.

When his few attempts failed, he turned his thoughts towards the mystic arts instead. Surely there was some way to use magic as a power source. Or perhaps there was an artifact? But first he needed to study and understand the energies of the arc reactor. Luckily, the spare was once again available for his perusal, and he didn't even need to remove it from its case. The sense of familiarity kept driving him up the wall, though. What power did it draw from, or what was its energy based upon, that Stephen had come across before? Why was it memorable?

There eventually came a point when Tony calmed down. When he seemed more resigned than frantic, and part of his attention lingered elsewhere. Making plans for his company. Creating a rather different, more heavy-hitting suit of armor. Consolidating his blueprints and plans.

He was getting his affairs in order. He hadn't given up yet, but Tony was realistic enough to acknowledge his chances.

Tony's strangest distraction – no pun intended – left Stephen bemused.

"There are a surprising number of Stranges in the States," he grumbled as he flicked through the results of JARVIS' broad search.

Stephen, curled up in the engineer's lap, lifted his head, a triangular cat ear twitching.

"And none of them doctors. I knew the guy was sketchy."

He absentmindedly stroked Stephen's head and repeatedly drew his hand along his spine with just the right amount of pressure, unwittingly saving himself from the cat's urge to flex his claws.

"JARVIS, you really couldn't find any sort of footage to use as a reference?" he complained.

Stephen yawned, unconcerned, and tucked his nose under his hind leg. The efforts of his sorcerers had made sure that certain spells had progressed alongside technology. The spells to hide from electronic monitoring were second nature and designed for far more advanced surveillance.

"If you could not pick him out of the gala's security footage, Sir, then it is rather difficult for one who has never identified him to do so based on such detailed descriptions as tall, thin, black-haired, or 'sort of blue-grey eyes, maybe sometimes green. It changed. Kind of like the sea or some shit, I guess.'"

Tony flushed at the sound byte, making a strangled noise of frustration and outrage. Stephen blinked, going still in his surprise.

"Don't – don't play that, JARVIS!" He absently busied his hands with the scrap metal in front of him instead of the animal in his lap. "You make it sound weird. He's got eyes like Stephen, okay?" Tony looked down at the cat, brow furrowed. A finger stroked his skull, just beside those eyes. "A lot like…" After a moment, he shook away his thought and returned his attention to JARVIS. "And I told you, he's got two white streaks at his temples, that's gotta be uncommon enough."

"Perhaps he was simply not caught on camera, or was hidden by the crowd," the AI offered logically.

"He stands out, it'd be obvious."

The silence was rather judgmental.

"He's got a unique face!"

"Unique is not precisely a useful description, Sir."

Tony sighed, forehead thunking down on the table in front of him. "Ow," he muttered.

Such drama, Stephen thought fondly, too comfortable to move.

Tony lifted his head and sighed. "Narrow it down to all living males, born in the States or currently residing within the States, between the ages of…let's say, 25 and 55. Bump any of them residing within or visiting the Malibu area to the top of the list, and see if you can scrounge up a current photo for all of them. Social media has to be good for something."

"Yes, Sir. And might I ask what you plan on doing once you have located your Dr. Strange?"

That was Stephen's question as well. He didn't even known why Tony was expending so much effort to try to find him. He'd gotten his NDA. Surely Stephen hadn't stood out that much? It wasn't as though he had been caught using magic, after all.

Tony looked…uncertain. He absentmindedly picked Stephen up and cradled him close. "I don't know. I guess we'll see what happens."

Eventually, Tony's attention turned towards reopening the Stark Expo. It was no small thing to organize in such a relatively short amount of time, and he and Pepper ran themselves and their teams ragged to make it a reality. Tony was becoming almost consumed with the idea of the legacy he was leaving behind.

Stephen could sympathize. He didn't often think about what he had left behind anymore. He was content with what had happened, mostly because he had been done. He had expected to die at last, and he was as good as dead to his original dimension. Thoughts of his friends and successor were mostly idle. Hopeful, even. He had no overwhelming regrets, no need for closure, no obsession with returning. That part of his life was over.

It probably helped that he lived mostly as one animal or another these days. Animals did not feel regret. Did not look back and dwell on the past.

For Tony, however, his life was being cut short unexpectedly. Not that Stephen – or Tony himself, for that matter – would let that happen without one hell of a fight. But Tony was a futurist, and it would be beyond irresponsible to avoid making preparations of some sort. Even if the palladium wasn't a problem, being Iron Man was dangerous, after all.

Despite all of the trouble and several near-disasters, the Expo was successfully set up and ready to open on time. Stephen considered attending opening night, and decided instead to wait for daylight and lighter crowds. He would go as himself, even, rather than try to work around avian eyes and behaviors. It would be fascinating to see how technology was progressing differently in this universe. Had he known only Tony's workshop upon arrival, he would have placed the year as several decades closer to the one he'd come from. Possibly even more than a century.

Instead, Stephen lounged on the couch as JARVIS played one of several news stations covering the Expo opening, with occasional commentary on what Tony was doing or saying when he wasn't on camera.

Stephen couldn't roll his eyes at Tony's flamboyant entrance, but he could roll himself onto his back and wriggle a bit to express himself.

"My sentiments exactly," JARVIS said dryly.

The sorcerer could understand the necessity for the showmanship and drama, could even admire Tony's charisma. He couldn't even truthfully say that he'd never partaken in similar or equivalent actions in his former position as Sorcerer Supreme (and possibly even as a world-renowned neurosurgeon, though on a smaller scale). But that didn't keep him from expressing amusement or exasperation at such antics either.

He did wish Tony wouldn't use his suit for anything less than an emergency, however. Such use only exacerbated his condition.

"I'm afraid that Sir will not be returning tonight," JARVIS said suddenly some time later, startling Stephen from his latest experiment with the spare reactor. He'd gotten bored with the news focus on the celebrities attending the Stark Expo and wandered off to get some actual work done. "He has been summoned to a Senate hearing."

That wasn't too surprising. They had been expecting the subpoena for a while now.

Stephen finished up with his prodding, and then decided that it was the perfect time to return the stack of books 'borrowed' from the Kamar-Taj library and make off with a new pile. It seemed that he was destined to infuriate every librarian of Kamar-Taj, if the current one was anything like Wong. He had tried reshelving the books he'd taken – borrowed – from Wong only once, and was nearly cursed for bypassing his check-in system and ruining his carefully maintained order. Now, it was habit to simply leave the stack on the main desk. He reshelved only the books in the designated 'ready to shelve' area, and usually only when he was trying to get back on Wong's good side. Well, better side.

He paused, momentarily distracted by his memories. It had been a while since he'd thought of those particular details.

Stephen shook it off, quickly grabbing a few relevant-sounding tomes through small portals. Standing, of course, in one of several blindspots inside Tony's mansion he had identified early on. The Ancient One would probably confront him if the current librarian was about to get murderous.

Murderous. Murdered. He'd done what he could to prevent the sorcerer's death, and hoped it would be enough. He didn't know exactly when Kaecilius had broken away, and who knew if the timing would even be the same in this universe.

He finished up his current, illicit library visit and stored most of his bounty in a pocket dimension. It wouldn't do, after all, to leave anything lying around where Tony might stumble across it. Then he shut himself up in a bathroom out of JARVIS' visual range, curled up on a mat, and projected his astral self to continue his research.

* * *

Footage of the Senate hearing played the next morning. Stephen watched the surprisingly entertaining spectacle with mixed feelings. On the one hand, it was always nice to stick it to asshole politicians. And he didn't even want to think about Iron Man suits under the government's control. On the other hand, he could see ways in which this could come back to bite Tony in the ass.

"At least Sir kept his clothes on," JARVIS commented in long-suffering tones.

Stephen snorted.

Tony returned home just a couple hours later, having flown back directly after the hearing. Stephen greeted him as a dog in case he had brought anyone back with him, tail wagging. The billionaire sank to his knees, stroking his ears and running his hands through his fur as Stephen pressed against him. Some of the tension visibly dropped from his shoulders, the sorcerer was pleased to note.

"I'm home, dear," Tony said, and despite the distinctly sardonic note, there was something genuine in his words. Something that warmed Stephen.

Tony rested his chin on Stephen's head for a long moment before standing with a groan. "No rest for the weary," he sighed, undoing the buttons of his dress shirt on the way to his bedroom to change into clothes more suitable for his lab. Stephen waited by his door, and transformed into a raven to perch on his shoulder once he exited. It was becoming a bad day for his hands, and a bird was his best chance for getting around with minimal discomfort. He could just perch on Tony rather than being carried, and minimize the use of his nerve-damaged limbs.

"Lazy," Tony muttered with a faint grin.

Stephen just shuffled closer so that he could lean against the side of the man's head, reducing the need to flare his wings for balance.

Tony's smile faded. He could be frighteningly intelligent. One hand reached up to gently brush his feathers. "I wish you wouldn't be so stubborn. I know the vet said that such old damage probably wouldn't be able to be healed any better, but a specialist might be able to help somehow."

Stephen made a short, high-pitched _keck-keck-keck_ sound in protest. He knew ravens could speak words, but he hadn't yet managed to figure out how to do it. Likely because he hadn't spent enough time trying to do so. Maybe because being a raven-shaped human increased the difficulty. Regardless, it was a simple matter to make his disagreement known.

He would never be completely pain-free and dexterous, but it could definitely be worse. Medicine had made great strides over Stephen's extended lifetime. If the damage had not been so old and severe, the latest surgical techniques might even have managed to repair his hands. As it was, the best the surgeon he'd ended up seeing had managed to do was to reduce some of the pain and tremors, and replace the steel pins with smaller, more forgiving materials. Even that procedure had been risky, considering the mental and physical trauma that lingered even centuries later.

Stephen considered the risks worth it for even some small reduction of his chronic pain. He had his bad days, but they'd once been so much worse. He would take what he could get.

Tony sighed, but gave in. Instead of going straight down to his lab, Stephen watched curiously as he detoured to gather champagne and two glasses on his way down, before handing them off to one of his robot children in the lab.

The both of them were immersed in JARVIS' diagnostics when the AI warned of Pepper's arrival, only moments before they heard the tap of her heels. Stephen immediately burst into motion. He fled for the cluster of bots to hide behind, flapping wing accidentally clipping Tony in his haste. A pained croak escaped him.

"Ack," the man yelped in surprise. And then, "I'm gonna allow that."

Stephen shifted into a dog while Butterfingers whirred and jolted in intrigue, masking Pepper's entrance. He thought about just remaining where he was, especially with all of the arguing that was happening. Pepper seemed honestly upset, and he couldn't say that he blamed her for it if the snippets he caught about an art collection were anything to go by. However, some of the bots could be notoriously clumsy, and his front paws just could not handle being run into – or over – today. When DUM-E began moving with a tray of champagne, Stephen gave him a wide berth and followed behind, creeping over slowly to greet the redhead where she sat, and doing his best not to limp.

"Hey boy," she said, leaning over to greet him in return. Her far hand held up a glass of champagne. Stephen assumed Tony had broken the news to her while he was distracted. She still looked stunned, and a little wild around the eyes. Suddenly becoming CEO of a company as large as SI would do that to anyone.

He leaned against her side for a moment, and then flopped down.

"Is Stephen alright?" Pepper asked Tony, brow furrowed in concern.

"Just his scars hurting today, I think," he responded.

Her expression softened as she glanced between the two, Stephen's paws and Tony's reactor, but she didn't say whatever she was thinking aloud. Probably knowing how poorly Tony reacted to certain emotions.

The pair settled down to discuss some of the details of her new position and contract while Stephen's attention drifted. He did not know much about the world of business, nor was he very interested, but it was nice to just relax in a quiet, comfortable moment among people he had grown to care for. It was almost like having friends again. He was half tempted to project his astral form just to strengthen that illusion, but recognized it as an unhealthy impulse.

He simply tucked his paws in and soaked in the calm until JARVIS' reminder that it was time for Tony's chlorophyll smoothie. Pepper left then, and Stephen watched with worry, tension returning as Tony once again tested his blood.


	6. Chapter 6

I am not thrilled with the first half of the chapter, but I'm too lazy to rewrite it right now. I'm also a little afraid I'll lose momentum if I do that. Maybe someday I'll rework it. It's pretty unlikely, but if it irritates me enough...

* * *

Stephen watched Tony and Happy spar in the ring, occasionally pacing back and forth to better view Tony's form and gauge his skill level. He caught Tony working out more often than he caught him training and sparring, so he tended to focus intently on those rare occasions he could witness the other man's abilities as a fighter. He'd been surprised the first time he realized that Tony was experienced in martial arts, and it had settled some of his worries about the other man flying around fighting terrorists and criminals.

Tony needed more diverse opponents, though. He'd only ever seen him sparring with Happy.

Stephen found himself trying to think of a way to set up regular sparring practice with the businessman, and maybe a few of his sorcerers, before reminding himself that, one, he was no longer Sorcerer Supreme, and two, that even just offering only himself was a foolish idea. How would he even manage it? Yes, Tony was curious enough to be looking for him, so it would be simple enough to either approach him, or set things up for Tony to approach Stephen. But what would even happen then? There was no reason for Tony to accept.

The next bout ended in Tony's favor, with Happy snapping about the illegality of the move. Which, true, it was, but Stephen approved of what that instinct meant. There were no rules when in the middle of fighting for your life, and it seemed like Tony had begun internalizing that lesson. Creative thinking, dirty tricks, and desperation had barely kept Stephen from being killed on multiple occasions.

The three of them were subsequently distracted by Pepper's entrance. Mostly by the unknown woman following her. Tony's lingering stare, in particular, had Stephen on edge. He drifted closer to the superhero's corner of the ring, movements slightly stiff. He wanted to bite the man when he interrupted Pepper's attempt to get him to sign the necessary paperwork for the transfer of CEO, and called the stranger over to the ring. Especially with the way she moved, and held his gaze as he sucked down the chlorophyll in his water bottle.

Stephen growled then, low and warning. He didn't know what his subconscious was picking up on yet, but he didn't trust the woman at all. Certainly not near Tony when he was so vulnerable. At least she would only be here long enough to satisfy the legalities before returning to her department.

Tony flinched slightly at the sound, enough to break the stare and slip beneath the ropes down to the floor. The woman's – Natalie's – gaze darted over to examine Stephen, taking in his tension and bristling fur with narrowed eyes, before seemingly dismissing him.

Stephen stuck close to Tony, flank nearly pressed against his legs as they walked over to join Pepper on the couch. He flopped down at his feet. Most of his attention remained focused on Natalie from legal.

"Jealous?" Tony murmured softly with an absent smirk when he leaned down to pet his head.

Stephen jerked away, snapping half-heartedly at his hand.

"What are you doing?" Pepper hissed. Whether she was referring to Stephen, to Natalie, or to everything in general was anyone's guess. Then Tony asked Natalie's last name and began typing into the table-screen, and her irritation once again had a focus.

"Are you looking her up? Seriously?"

That, at least, had Stephen setting aside his pride and twisting to put his paws up on the table for a better view of the information. What he managed to glimpse of her resume was impressive, but despite Tony's distraction with the many languages she knew, of course he ended up focusing on Natalie's modeling photos. And then decided he wanted her to be his assistant.

Stephen growled, a shorter, quieter sound this time, and let his paws and head obscure Tony's view of his search results.

Tony's expression softened as he buried his fingers in Stephen's fur. "It'll be fine, dear. Don't worry. And you'll be around to protect me from the big, bad notary."

Stephen headbutted his goateed chin in retaliation for the patronizing tone. And maybe a little for the recklessness, but that was just par for the course.

Seriously, how had he become the cautious one? As leader of a cabal of sorcerers, sure, he would never be reckless with their lives. But that was the key. _Their_ lives. On his own, he tended to throw caution to the wind more often than any of his friends would like. _They_ were the long-suffering ones.

This must be petty revenge from the afterlife.

Tony's teeth clacked together and he winced. "Ugh. So violent, as-ssStephen," he corrected with a chagrined, sideways glance at Pepper.

She continued glaring him and reached out to cuddle the grumpy canine. "You're confusing your poor dog," she reprimanded, and then turned to address Stephen, stroking his ears and neck. He couldn't help leaning into her touch while she said, "Such a good boy, Stephen. It's tough being around him all the time, isn't it? I'm honestly impressed at how well you're doing."

"Ouch," Tony responded, clutching exaggeratedly at his heart. When Pepper ignored him, glancing back up at the boxing ring with obvious concern while she pet Stephen, he apparently felt safe enough to glower at him from over her shoulder and mouth, 'Asshole'.

Stephen let his tongue loll out just a little in what he knew was a smug expression.

A loud thud caught their attention immediately, and the two males spun to face the ring even as Pepper let out a loud, "Oh my God!"

Stephen had just enough time to see a winded Happy flat on his back, Natalie holding his arm in a lock while her legs applied pressure to his throat. She leapt back to her feet quickly, and Stephen darted over to Tony's side, teeth slightly bared. Instinct or deliberate display? She didn't appear chagrined at a slip in character, but there was no way to be certain. Whichever it was, it only proved how dangerous she could be.

Looking more closely, with a better idea of what had set him off subconsciously, Stephen could see from the way the woman moved that it went beyond simple training in martial arts. She knew combat, and not in a military sense. For a moment the way she moved had been pure danger, before dampening down into something a little more sensual and less outright predatory.

The first chance he got, Stephen was going to find a way to get JARVIS to play the footage of the takedown so that he could study it.

In the meantime, he would stick closely to Tony while she was around. Thankfully, that was only until she notarized the paperwork for the transfer of the company.

"Will that be all, Mr. Stark?" the woman asked.

Pepper's response echoed his thoughts so completely that Stephen might have been disoriented by the short cacophony of noise had Tony's immediate, "No," not set his nerves alight with – with danger. She was dangerous, Tony shouldn't let his intrigue get the best of him. Not when he was vulnerable. Not…It was different than when Stephen had met him. It was.

He snarled in displeasure, sounding more wolfish than he meant to. Tony jumped in surprise and Pepper stifled a gasp. Both women looked at him with greater wariness than either had ever displayed towards him.

Stephen felt a bit regretful at frightening the new CEO, but a quick glance at whatever Tony's expression was seemed to settle her. He focused instead on the other redhead, whose hand had barely twitched, as if for a weapon.

"Where did you say you found him again?" Her throaty voice was steady, without a hint of apprehension.

"In Afghanistan," Tony replied shortly, sounding less than intrigued for the first time since meeting Natalie.

"Was he wild?"

Tony shrugged, shutting down the conversation. Whatever Natalie read on his face had her moving on.

Tony left for Monaco less than a week later. Stephen was surprised when the man invited him to come along, but then he supposed that being a billionaire would let him bypass a lot of the trouble that came with traveling overseas with animals. He had declined, nevertheless. There were things he could get done more easily while he was certain that Tony would be away for a few days. JARVIS would be active for both of them, of course, but it was much easier to get around when Stephen only had to deal with one or the other.

He regretted saying no when he found out Natalie Rushman would be tagging along. Had been irritable and prickly when he found out that she'd been hired as an assistant, and made his bad temper known by puncturing one or two things with his cat's claws. He came very close to changing his mind, but Pepper would be there. And Happy. And Stephen had long since anchored protective spells in the inventor's reactor casing.

Plus, it wasn't as though Tony was helpless. Just reckless and occasionally an idiot.

It was only by chance that Stephen was still in the house when JARVIS brought up the channel showing the Monaco 500 live. He was planning to surreptitiously visit Kamar-Taj later to do a bit of research in person. It was something he had been putting off for too long. But the thought of returning to what had been, essentially, the seat of his power made him tense. He'd only gone the first time out of necessity and duty, and had refused to assume his true shape. If bypassing the protective magicks on the Sanctums wouldn't weaken them, he would go to either London or Hong Kong instead; the New York Sanctum, of course, was out of the question if he was trying to avoid feeling like Atlas all over again.

Stephen cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out what JARVIS wanted him to see. Until the AI explained the driver of the SI sponsored car was Tony himself. That barely registered before fire bloomed on the tracks and cars started spinning out or tumbling back end over front through the air. Stephen leapt to his feet as people started screaming. When the Stark car was split and crashed, he felt frantically along the faint magical connection between them to be sure that his protection spells were intact and untested. They hadn't kicked in, so if there was any damage it wasn't supernatural or life-threatening.

Then the camera focused on the unknown figure on the racetrack. It – he? – was undeniably focused on Tony. And were those whips? Stephen was momentarily indignant at this theft of his signature fighting style, and then worried that the mystic arts were being exposed to the world on life television.

But no. Looking more closely, he could see it looked less like sorcery and more like…Tony's repulsor tech?

He hissed, fur bristling and claws digging into the rug as the villain stalked towards Tony. His eyes narrowed at the arrogance as the man took his time, the showboating as he spun his whips. Stephen didn't know what he wanted from this, and he didn't like not knowing. If he was after Tony's life, he would have taken advantage of his disorientation and rushed him. And Stephen might not have been able to restrain himself from exposing magic to the world in his panic to protect the superhero.

So the man must be after something else. Or something more than just Tony's life. And he definitely wanted attention, wanted to make a show of it.

Stephen's claws flexed, tail lashing as he tried to think of the best way forward. He had faith that Tony could take care of himself. But he wasn't invincible, and he shouldn't have to face everything alone.

He flopped down onto the floor, and shot into the astral plane. A mere thought brought him to Tony's side as he dove away from the explosion of the energy whips hitting a leaking gas tank.

"Such a mess," Stephen said to himself as the other man frantically slapped at the flames on the arm of his racing uniform. Not that Tony could see or hear him.

He floated around him to hover on the side closer to the villain, focus back on the danger. The harness powering the whips was not quite like the reactor in Tony's chest, though the energies were similar enough to be related beyond mere appearances. They also crackled like livewires in Stephen's perception, and the edges of his astral projection seemed almost to buzz a bit with close proximity.

Stephen had a feeling that he should avoid having one of those whips pass through him.

His attention was so focused on the danger, he almost didn't realize why Tony raced for the fence and leaped up to cling to it. He noticed the non-racecar speeding for the man at the last minute and flinched back, wincing as it pinned the villain against the fence. The shouting between Tony, Happy, and Pepper was background noise as he struggled to suppress traumatic memories of his own crash.

Stephen almost couldn't believe it when the man began to stir. He had no protective suit, and wasn't even wearing a shirt for fuck's sake. Yet he didn't appear seriously injured either. Had he gotten lucky with the harness?

What followed was a surreal, nearly slapstick routine as Happy kept hitting the man with the car, eventually setting off the airbag, while Pepper and Tony struggled to get the portable Iron Man suit handed off. "What the hell?" Stephen wondered in disbelief as he hovered just above the roof. His attention shifted, becoming a laser point focus on the motion of an arm pulled back and snapped forward, peripheral awareness clocking the position of everyone in this scenario.

A point of leverage recognized, a burst of energy timed just right, and the whip barely missed slicing through the passengers within the car. And again. And again. Tony might be his first priority, but he wasn't going to just stand by and let Happy or Pepper suffer either.

He was breathing hard, heart racing with the effort. The edges of his projection were starting to feel a little numb, which was certainly concerning. He hoped JARVIS didn't notice any of the distress his physical body must be showing, although that was probably a vain hope.

At last Pepper tossed the case out of the open side of the car, and Tony suited up, shoving the other two out of the line of fire.

Stephen hung in midair, wrung out by his efforts to affect the physical world. His fingers twitched with the need to do something as one whip wrapped around Tony's neck. Luckily, the genius managed to turn the tables and trap the other in place instead, getting close enough to flip him and yank the energy source from the harness.

Finally, everything seemed under control for now. With no reason to linger, Stephen faded back to his physical body, just to hear JARVIS' frantic worry regarding his vital signs.

"Welcome back, Master Strange."

"Doctor," he corrected automatically. His shoulders tightened, but he didn't look away from the relics display in front of him.

The Ancient One hummed, and from the corner of his eye he saw her gray-clad form come to a halt at his side, hands resting behind her back. "It is good to see you in person, Stephen."

His lips thinned. He had been trying not to think of it. His cat shape had gotten him into Kamar-Taj, but he'd known it would be necessary to search the stored relics in human form. He hadn't realized quite how unsettling it would be, this bombardment of memories and feelings, the sense of duty and obligation binding and strangling him.

Stephen had been freer last time, as a dog or a cat. And more inviting to touch.

"We saw each other not so long ago," was all he said. "Not nearly as long as I'd planned."

It sounded much ruder than he'd meant, but the Ancient One was as infuriatingly serene and understanding as he remembered.

Her silence was pointed. She knew he was deliberately misinterpreting her words.

Stephen moved on slowly, gaze darting between relics as he mentally identified and discarded their usefulness for his current needs. He'd set aside his reading to browse the storage rooms himself, hoping that something would spark inspiration as a replacement for Tony's palladium core. But there was little that would serve, and of the items that might work, the cost was prohibitive. Beyond what he or Tony would be willing to accept.

"You've become very attached to Tony Stark."

Stephen halted, jaw clenched. He had made himself safe from scrying, but there were other means that could be used to catch glimpses of him.

"I do not believe that anything we have here, or at any of the Sanctums, would do what you desire."

He spun to face her at last, pausing momentarily at the unfolded fan she flicked in her hand. He had almost forgotten about that habit of hers. "What do you know of Stark?" he asked.

"Did he not exist in your world?" she responded.

Stephen had not forgotten her tendency to dance around subjects, but he also knew when to pick his battles. Sometimes.

"Certainly not as Iron Man. We had the occasional mutant, but no superheroes like Iron Man or Captain America." His lips twisted at the faintly ridiculous names more suited to comic books than real life. Then again, he was a sorcerer who traveled and battled in worlds he imagined wouldn't be out of place in a bad acid trip, so he couldn't exactly throw stones. "Nothing like some of the universes I visited, and even then those visits were rare, and I never interacted with any superheroes.

"As far as Stark goes…" He cast his mind back, struggling with his early memories. "Stark Industries never became the enormous, groundbreaking tech company it's set up to become here. I don't think it ever got out of the weapons business, actually, and I also don't remember hearing it mentioned after…oh, maybe 2030? It never caught my attention, and I never paid the business sector much mind. And if a Tony Stark existed, he certainly never achieved the celebrity or notoriety he had here, even before his kidnapping in Afghanistan."

"Interesting," the Ancient One murmured. "Either he never existed, or he was a very different man."

Stephen inclined his head in agreement. "Even if he'd managed to avoid the spotlight in my universe, I certainly would have noticed if he was anything like this one." His attention on her sharpened. "His presence is a bit like an undertow or eye of a storm on the fabric of the universe."

"I had wondered if that was what caught your attention. Although I am surprised that you would choose to follow him when you were – are – so determined to rest."

It wasn't an accusation or anything close to one, so Stephen allowed himself to be more truthful than he might have otherwise. "I didn't exactly choose to go with him. Not at first."

The Ancient One's quicksilver smile told him that she understood at least a little of Tony's personality.

"But he needed…something…someone. Still does. And then I just…" He shrugged helplessly. "I never left."

"Undertow, indeed," she murmured.

He scowled, but there was little heat behind it. "Then you know what it is about."

"As do you," she said pointedly.

"Not – I'm not as attuned to the subtleties in the energies of this universe. I meant something more specific. Or even generalities, but something beyond a central part to play in a tipping point on a universal scale. Because I've rarely seen that sort of knot in the weave, and almost never surrounding one individual."

"Sometimes foreknowledge is useless. Sometimes it does more harm than good."

Stephen wasn't sure what expression he was making. He looked away. "I know."

"You've made your own ripples," she said.

His head snapped up. Whatever anyone might think, affecting the weave, the fabric of any universe in such a way was unusual even for a sorcerer. Even for a Sorcerer Supreme. They were so tiny in the face of everything, in the spin of worlds and the momentum of entropy, the weight of existence and the burden of birth and rebirth.

"The death of your counterpart here, even at such a young age, so far from the path that would have led to the Mystic Arts, was a nearly unnoticed tremor. Your arrival here was like a raindrop striking the surface of a still pond."

Stephen's heart was racing. He hadn't known. It hadn't even occurred to him to look. To see what his effect on this world might be, because he hadn't planned to make any sort of impression at all. It might have sounded small, but anything noticeable was anything but. He felt suffocated. Cornered. Trapped. And so he did what had quickly become habit.

The Ancient One's gaze was sorrowful as she folded and tucked away her fan, crouching down to gather up a small, frozen cat. "You aren't without choices, Stephen. You know that." She held him close and stroked him between his soft ears. "You're a new, powerful element introduced to this world. But it doesn't have to mean what you fear. Any of your fears. It doesn't have to mean anything you don't want it to mean, even."


	7. Chapter 7

This chapter took longer to write, but it's also a longer chapter. Hopefully that makes up for the wait.

* * *

The Ancient One was right. Of course she was. There were no relics in any of the Sanctums that could do what Stephen required. What Tony required.

He snagged a few more books from the library and stored them away before returning to Malibu. He managed to coax the footage of Rushman's takedown from JARVIS, with enough time to finish examining it before innocently greeting Tony and Pepper in the lab on their return.

Tony looked… He looked almost gray. He was tense, radiating stress for anyone who cared to look closely. His expression might be focused and almost angry, but there was an unsteadiness to his movements that betrayed the worsening symptoms of his palladium poisoning. To Stephen's discerning eye, at least. Even less obvious was how the poisoning was affecting his mind and eroding his decision-making processes.

Pepper was more obviously angry and distracted. Her voice rose higher in her frustration as the two of them argued about the public fallout of Tony's actions, Vanko's actions, and proof of arc reactor technology that had been promised to be impossible for anyone else to create even in the next decade. Stephen knew that she was under a great deal of pressure as the new CEO of SI, that Tony was acting irrationally and irresponsibly to her eyes. That she was enormously and understandably preoccupied. But could she really not see?

Tony was falling apart. Was losing hope and pulling reckless stunts not necessarily off of a sort of bucket list, but out of desperation and some form of denial. He was watching his life slipping between his grasping fingers, faster and faster, and there was nothing he could do. No way he could think of to fix it. Not this time.

And he didn't even have the support, assistance, or encouragement of his friends because they didn't know. Because Tony refused to share the burden. Because he shouldered the weight of his impending death alone, and it was just killing him faster. Stephen only knew because he was there. Because he was believed to be his pet and companion, and he wasn't meant to be as intelligent – as sentient – as human as he was.

It broke Stephen's heart.

It was easy to face death in the heat of battle. To risk going out in a blaze of glory, without the time to do more than react to what was happening. With no time to really think about the consequences beyond your immediate goal. Stephen could attest to that.

But given time to consider? To knowingly walk to your death as one moment stretches into the next, with all the time in the world to truly think about your inevitable end; to reconsider and doubt and push back overwhelming fear again and again? Unable to escape or turn away? That was a much harder burden to bear.

Especially alone.

He automatically tuned back in to the argument when he heard his name, and half wished he hadn't.

"And you - what was Stephen doing in your lab alone?"

Stephen winced internally. _Ugh, no. Don't bring me into this, please._ He might have tried to slip away if he hadn't noticed Rushman hovering in the background, waiting for further instructions. He was reluctant to leave her around Tony, even with Pepper present.

"What - why wouldn't - what's wrong with – "

"_What's wrong with tha- _"

"He likes hanging out in there, I'm not going to just lock him ou-"

"It's dangerous for him to be in there, especially unsupervised – "

"Well, problem solved, he isn't unsupervised. JARVIS is – "

"JARVIS can't stop him from swallowing pieces of metal or chewing on exposed wires, Tony! You could get him killed!"

Tony recoiled. Stephen shifted closer, leaning his weight against the man's legs as a point of comfort and regretting that he couldn't do more to defend him. Not without speech. He didn't want to growl or snarl at Pepper, who meant well. And it wouldn't help anything, or make Tony feel better if he did so either.

"He's not an idiot, Pepper."

"No," she agreed. "But he's still just a dog."

Tony opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it.

"It was dangerous enough when I thought he was only down here when you were. But to let him in whenever he wants? When you haven't dog-proofed the room?"

"It's never been a problem."

"That just means you got lucky. Luck alone won't keep him healthy and uninjured."

Tony's fingers tangled in his shaggy fur, and his jaw clenched. "How did we even get on this topic, anyway? No, never mind, we've got to figure out how we can spin this clusterfuck, and I've got some research to do on Vanko and a party to prepare for."

Pepper's lips thinned, but she let it go. Tony wasn't the sort of person to knowingly hurt animals. And there were more pressing topics. "Rhodey mentioned that he would be stopping by soon, by the way," she mentioned off hand.

Tony grimaced. "I assume not for birthday wishes."

"Well, not just," she agreed. "But he did say that he was planning to attend your party."

The anger faded as the pair of them discussed the angle they wanted to take and the options the PR team had presented them with. Stephen rested his head on his paws and tuned out again, pressed against Tony's shins and getting long, pale hairs all over his expensive pants. He hated feeling useless, and the last thing Tony needed right now was yet another point of contention. Tony's fear and despair was feeding his own, especially considering how far the poisoning had progressed.

He tried not to let himself think it, but there really might not be a solution to this. Someone needed to come up with a miracle soon if Tony wanted to get out of this without lasting consequences to his health.

Once Pepper left, Tony delved into the history of Ivan Vanko with Stephen in cat form balanced on his shoulders and paying close attention. The man had come out of nowhere at probably the worst time – at least on Tony's part.

Stephen could feel Tony's mood drop even lower the more they learned about Anton Vanko's history with Howard. He slipped into his Roadster, dropping heavily into the driver's seat as JARVIS narrated. One hand reached up to cup Stephen's torso and prevent him from slipping off at the jolting movement.

Stephen nuzzled at Tony's neck where the dark patterns of the poisoning were becoming visible. Tony's jaw clenched, but his calloused hands were gentle on his fur.

The sorcerer was so distracted that he almost missed sensing Rhodes' approach. He immediately leapt into the passenger seat and shifted into a dog, obviously alerting his companion to someone approaching. As Stephen made no indication that the person was threatening, Tony simply remained slumped in his seat.

Rhodes' made no secret of how furious he was, and of the difficult position Tony had put him in. Stephen was torn between staying with the inventor for support, or getting away from yet another screaming argument between two friends.

Tony must have caught on, as he subtly waved him away. "Go on," he breathed just beneath Rhodes' strident tones.

Stephen hesitated for another moment. The other man looked bad and surely felt worse. But he didn't have hands at the moment, nor a voice to help. Now, with Rhodes here, surely Tony would get some sort of human help or support at last? And JARVIS would be looking out for his creator as well.

Stephen hauled himself up and over the side door, landing heavily on the floor and trotting past the military man, who dismissed him in favor of trying to berate some sense into his seemingly irresponsible friend. This was something those two would need to work out. They deserved their privacy. The gods knew, Tony got so little of it.

* * *

Tony…didn't seem to be in better spirits when Stephen saw him next. The canine had retreated to a corner of Tony's bedroom out of camera range, and then slipped into the mirror dimension. He wasn't prepared to give up. Not until every avenue had proven fruitless and Tony's heart stopped.

He lost track of time, and was only brought back to the present when Tony entered his room and began changing for the party. While the other man was in the bathroom, Stephen returned to the real world.

"Gah!" Tony jumped when he exited the bathroom and immediately noticed something moving out of the corner of his eye. His hand jerked up as though he were wearing an Iron Man gauntlet. "Shit," he breathed, scowling at the dog sitting in his armchair. "Were you there the whole time?"

Stephen chuffed in amusement. Any positive emotion quickly drained away when he realized that the robe Tony wore openly displayed the darkened patchwork of veins around his arc reactor. He whined, head and ears lowering in distress.

Tony followed his gaze down to his chest, and grimaced.

He grimaced. "It's f-" His voice broke. He cleared his throat. "It'll be fine. I…I'll figure out some sort of arrangement for you too, Stephen. Pepper isn't really an animal person, and Rhodey is hardly ever home thanks to his job. Happy's a pretty steady guy, though. I'm sure you two could get along."

Stephen growled, shifting through his more common forms in response before settling back as a cat so that Tony could easily pick him up. Tony shouldn't be worried about him; Stephen didn't need anything from him, except for the other man to get better somehow. He hardly needed to be making arrangements for his care.

Tony held him close until some of the tension eased from his body. He set Stephen back down in the chair rather suddenly then, and gripped the back of it. Stephen recognized a dizzy spell and meowed worriedly, jumping down to the floor and shifting into a wolf. That form would be large enough to catch Tony, or at least cushion his fall if it became necessary.

"Park," he gasped, white-knuckled grip on the back of the armchair loosening. "National forest. Can I buy some? Sure I can. Maybe land next door. In perpetuity. You'll have space to roam out of sight of people and anyone who might want to dissect you. Unless you wanted to be taken back to Afghanistan? I mean, you didn't look particularly happy there, but I can make sure you get back there."

Stephen whined and carefully leaned against him. This man was such a mass of contradictions. So selfish and selfless, thoughtless and unbelievably generous. He should be concentrating on saving himself, not taking care of everyone else.

Stephen definitely didn't need taking care of. He wasn't actually an animal, no matter how long he spent as one or another. And he was fine. Completely fine.

Tony exhaled explosively, looking noticeably steadier and…not _well_, exactly, but much less like he was about to keel over. He stepped over to the mirror, features grim as he had JARVIS bring up the information on his vitals. Stephen whined louder as he read the percentages.

89%.

But he had no time to dwell, senses giving him just enough warning to duck behind the armchair and shift into dog form. In response, Tony immediately and casually covered his chest with his robe, tying the belt and gesturing for JARVIS to lose any incriminating information just as Natalie Rushman strode in.

_Excellent situational awareness_, Stephen noted, not for the first time. The woman didn't make it obvious, but she marked his position right away. He hadn't been hiding exactly, but his presence was obscured enough by the furniture that most people wouldn't have noticed immediately.

His eyes followed her as she moved about the room, helping Tony prepare. He bristled, becoming more tense at every obvious, suggestive comment, every time she stood too close, each sensual motion and artful pause.

Stephen supposed he should give Natalie credit for not _literally_ throwing herself at Tony. He'd heard the stories and seen the images on the internet. She was certainly a step or two above that.

She seemed, in fact, almost exactly Tony's type. Suspiciously so, if he wasn't being paranoid. But she didn't seem to be aiming to kill him, so as long as Tony didn't take her to bed when Stephen was present, he couldn't in good conscience interfere.

No matter how much he might hate it.

Thankfully, despite the comments that had Pepper briefly fearing a potential sexual harassment lawsuit, Tony seemed…not uninterested exactly, but… Resistant. He flirted, but that was about the extent of things. Even despite Natalie obviously being open to more.

Well. Considering Tony's general health and state of wellbeing, it was understandable that sex wasn't a priority. It couldn't solely be the dark patchwork on his chest, since simply keeping his shirt on would solve the risk of any lover seeing and drawing their own conclusions.

And maybe Tony was suspicious of Natalie Rushman as well, even if he hadn't spoken of it with Stephen. Even despite commenting on Stephen's obvious dislike of her several times.

"Can I ask you something personal?"

Stephen froze. Perhaps he'd relaxed too soon. Perhaps Tony was finally responding to Natalie's flirtations. And Stephen would…would have to let him…

"If this was the last birthday party you were going to have, what would you do?"

Oh.

He softened. _Oh Tony_, he thought sadly.

Natalie held the businessman's gaze. "I would do whatever I wanted to do, with whomever I wanted to do it with."

Stephen snarled, but too late. He could see her carefully chosen words sinking in, her manipulations striking home. Whatever happened next, wherever his recklessness took him, Natalie's schemes were progressing at Tony's expense. Whether or not he slept with her, this would be a success for her, and Tony was too far gone to see it.

Tony had been teetering on the edge of a cliff for far too long, and Natalie had just shoved him off.

* * *

Stephen growled to himself, huddled under a bed in a far corner of the mansion. He could hear the noise of the party even from there, but at least it wasn't as deafening. He should leave. Should find something more productive to do, somewhere quieter. Tony wouldn't notice or care about his absence.

He had tried to block the other man from his Iron Man suit when, already tipsy, he'd made a beeline for it. Not even for an actual emergency, but simply as some sort of party trick. A spectacle. He was much too far gone to use up what little time he had so carelessly.

Tony had bodily shoved him away, and instead of thinking twice on this rare occasion of extensive barking, he had simply shouted back and ejected him from his lab. He'd paced agitatedly outside the glass doors, howling when his frustration grew too great. But Tony simply ignored him and stepped on to the platform to suit up. The process seemed slower than usual, and Stephen was certain that JARVIS was also arguing against it. But in the end, Tony prevailed.

Stephen stayed away then, lingering just outside the party area until the noise grew painful on his sensitive ears and he grew tired of dodging drunk attendees.

He should leave, at least for the night. But he couldn't abandon Tony when he was so ill and vulnerable.

He jerked at the sound of repulsors firing, and banged his head on the underside of the bed. Whining more in surprise than pain, he crawled out into the open despite identifying the increased sound as cheering rather than an attack.

Not too long after, however, he heard splintering wood, shattering stone, and…metal on metal?…in addition to breaking glass. And then screams of fear began.

Stephen sprinted towards the sounds of battle, blood racing with adrenaline. Not now. Who was attacking now?

He skidded to a stop just outside the area of destruction in time to see a lawn full of party-goers flee. He barely registered that, however, trying to come to terms with what he was seeing. Was that Rhodes in the other armor? And they were beating each other up?

For the first time, he was honestly tempted to bench the both of them in another dimension.

Stephen focused on remaining calm. He might be furious with both violent idiots, but he had to remember that, so far as he knew, Tony hadn't told anyone he was dying. Rhodes couldn't know what was happening. From his point of view, Tony was completely out of control, for no reason whatsoever, and the military man was taking a lot of the heat from the government and his superiors.

_Calm_, he told himself. _Calm_.

Vishanti, he really wanted to bite him. Wanted to protect Tony, no matter how well he could protect himself. Although at the moment his movements were slow and clumsy, and he was being hurt, and _Tony was_ _his_-

_No. Stop._

Stephen shut out all distractions and focused on how he could best respond to this.

Not as an animal. He needed hands, needed a voice, and possibly needed easier access to his mystical talents. He might be able to defend himself magically as a dog, but was unlikely to manage it subtly if it came to that. Plus, without footwear he was going to shred his paws trying to get close.

Stephen hurried away and out of sight of JARVIS' cameras, shifting into his true form and disguising his robes as a suit more fitting for a party among the rich and famous.

What sounded like an explosion rocked the area. He cursed and moved faster, hardly able to believe it. Black leather gloves hid his scarred hands almost as an afterthought as he strode across the lawn, picking his way through the debris the closer he got to the shattered wall of windows. He caught sight of Rhodes' armor rising into the air as he approached.

Stephen pressed his lips together, eyes narrowed as the colonel shot into the night. Surely he hadn't left Tony defenseless and just run off with his gift.

He forced himself to let those thoughts go. Whatever had happened was between the two men. He shouldn't judge without knowing the full story, and surely Tony would speak about it to Stephen eventually. Not to mention, he was Dr. Strange now. He had no business getting involved. He just needed to check on Tony, get him out of the suit that was _killing him faster_, possibly sling him into a bed, and maybe goad him into being more careful. For whatever good that last would do, if Tony was as drunk as he feared.

Maybe it would be better if Tony didn't remember his appearance in the morning. Well, there would be pros and cons either way.

Broken glass crunched beneath his shoes as he entered the mansion, and he headed directly for where Iron Man lay prone. Thankfully, the helmet at least was off. He briefly stripped one glove to check Tony's pulse, exhaling a little shakily in relief when it proved strong enough, if a bit fast. Although the darkened pattern crawling up his neck was certainly cause for concern. Obvious visual evidence of how little time the idiot had left.

Next, Stephen shifted the other man into a recovery position as best he could. But the armor was very heavy, and his hands were not very strong. They ached by the time he moved on to checking his pupils, as well as for other potential issues. It would take superhuman strength, machinery, or magic to move his limp, suited form. Which was why Stephen attempted to shake him awake once he'd decided it was past time to get him out of the armor that was making things worse. He might know all of the manual quick release points, but it wasn't actually all that quick. Especially not with his hands. The machinery in his lab created solely for the purpose of disassembling the Iron Man armor would be much faster unless he resorted to magic. Which he might have to, if Tony didn't wake up.

Plus, Dr. Strange really shouldn't have any idea how the armor worked. He didn't want to alarm Tony, nor interest him any further.

Just as he was prepared to summon a bucket of cold water, the fallen hero groaned and stirred at last. Unfairly long lashes fluttered as he squinted against the light.

"Get up, Stark," Stephen drawled.

Tony flinched. "Ungh. Wha – who?" He blinked rapidly as his eyes focused on the doctor's face. "Strange?" he said incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to keep you from dying. Again."

"Let me guess. You're just passing by." Some of his words slurred together, but it wasn't too noticeable. He groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

Stephen snorted. "Obviously, I was at your party." He slipped behind Tony to provide some support for his back, wincing as the debris pressed into his knees.

"Know I didn't invite you." His head lolled back, hair brushing Stephen's shoulder. He jostled him in case he was slipping back into unconsciousness.

"I came as a plus one. Up, Stark," he commanded before any further questions could be asked. "You need to get out of this."

"Whyyyy?" Tony whined, obnoxiously drawing out the 'y'. He obeyed nevertheless.

"Because if you don't, you'll break your bed and your body won't thank you in the morning." He raked his gaze over the disheveled and drunken condition, peering into dark eyes in an attempt to judge awareness. "Well," he said, "not that it will thank you anyway."

He suspected that Tony hadn't reached blackout drunk after all. Just very drunk, with his poisoning symptoms making everything worse.

The other man sniggered. "You'll join me, won't ya, Doc?" Upon leveraging himself completely upright, he blanched and threw an arm over Stephen's shoulders to keep from falling over.

Stephen rolled his eyes and waited until he'd gotten his bearings before leading him towards the lab. "If you throw up on me, not only will I drop your ass and leave, you will be the one cleaning vomit out of your circuitry."

"Ugh. Thought you were supposed to be a doctor," Tony commented once he looked steadier. "Shouldn't you be used to gross bodily…stuff?"

"I dealt with blood and brain; other people handled common illness."

"Less skilled?" Tony sent him a sly side-eye.

Stephen smirked.

"Less specialized," he corrected with obviously false modesty. It may have been centuries since he'd last operated on anyone, but that didn't erase the fact that he had been one of the best. And he'd kept up with all of the advances, neurosurgery being one of his passions. Backing up his arrogance in the field had never been the problem.

Tony snorted. Then tripped over his feet and nearly brought the both of them down. If he wasn't careful, his heavy metal suit was going to break one of Stephen's limbs.

"Shouldn't be bringing you down here," Tony muttered.

'Then why are you?' Stephen didn't ask. He did hesitate on the threshold of the lab, but Tony didn't let go of him, so he followed. He probably should have acted more like he'd never seen the space before, but he was too concerned to think too much about it. Instead, he watched, tense, as Tony mounted the platform, relaxing when the prototype machine had begun the disassembly process.

Once it was done, without metal to hold him upright, Tony nearly collapsed off the platform. Stephen dove forward as the superhero clutched at his chest.

"That box," he wheezed, gesturing. "On that table."

But Stephen was already dragging him over to it. He popped the lid open before hesitating. The palladium cores were too small and thin for him to retrieve without magic. Burying the self-pity, he held the box out instead.

Tony efficiently switched out the used core for a new one. Stephen grimaced at the smoke rising from it and the acrid scent of burnt metal.

He didn't know how much time had passed before Tony sighed and set the box aside. "I didn't think doctors panicked so openly," he commented, eyeing Stephen's shaking, gloved hands.

Powerful emotion surprised Stephen, brought a snarl to his face. "They don't," he said once he wrestled his calm into place. "I don't. It's not panic."

"Nervous?" Tony was deliberately trying to goad him. Damn the man for being so skilled at it.

"Nerves, certainly," he responded with bared teeth.

When it was clear that he wouldn't be getting anything else, Tony crossed his arms and slumped back against the worktable. "I'm sure you got questions, Doc. Just ask 'em."

Stephen hummed. "I suppose I just never expected to see Tony Stark give up."

Tony jerked, eyes wide.

"Not really a question, I suppose. It's just a pity that your reputation as a genius is somewhat overrated."

Oh, that had definitely hit its mark. The proud genius looked more sober than he had since before the party, and more furious than Stephen thought he had ever seen him. He puffed up, face red, and speechless for several long moments.

"_What the fuck_!" he bellowed. "What the – I _am_ a fucking genius – give up _what_?"

Stephen reached out, gripping the collar of Tony's expensive shirt. "Your life, Stark."

That gave him pause.

He ran a gloved finger along the darkened veins now extending to the shorter man's neck. Tony shivered slightly at the feel of the leather, mumbling something including the word, "kinky."

"You're dying, aren't you? And you've given up. You're just letting it happen."

"Fuck you." Tony smacked his hand away, and Stephen fought not to let the pain show. "You don't have a clue, asshole. I've tried every combination of every known element. There's nothing that works." His expression was thunderous.

It didn't hide the fear. Not from Stephen.

"Then try unknown elements," the sorcerer said. As if it were that simple. "You miniaturized an arc reactor and created a flying suit of battle armor in a cave, didn't you? Now you're, what, just going to rest on your laurels?"

Tony scowled, but he also seemed to be considering Stephen's words.

"Careful, Strange. That almost sounded like a compliment."

"Oh, well. Now your poisoning symptoms are really showing."

A surprised, almost incredulous bark of laughter escaped Tony. "Oh, wow. You totally failed the bedside manner part of your profession, didn't you?"

"Sleep it off, Stark."

"And now you're dodging the question." But he allowed Stephen to herd him toward the cot. While he arranged himself into a comfortable position, Stephen retrieved a bottle of water and an empty metal trash can for him.

"Drink," he commanded.

Tony obeyed for once. "How are you always around when trouble is?" he muttered.

"How are you always dragging me into your trouble? You can't blame me for any of it. I've seen you on the news," Stephen rejoined. "My days are perfectly fine and ordinary, until I stumble across your troublesome ass." He was absolutely lying through his teeth. Mostly.

Tony scoffed. They continued bickering, which turned into actual, quiet conversation until Tony at last succumbed to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Stephen wasn't sure when he dozed off, but it was still dark when he startled awake. His back and neck hurt from sleeping on the floor, propped upright only by the cot behind him.

Correction. His entire body protested when he attempted to stand. He was far too old for this. Thankfully, his clumsy, painful movements were also fairly quiet. One glance down at Tony's sleeping form confirmed that.

Stephen's first few steps toward the door were more of a hobble before his muscles warmed up and his limbs remembered how to move. A quick flush of magic through his body eased the worst of the aches, and he felt almost human by the time he approached the open wall of what had once been glass windows.

JARVIS was suspiciously silent. Waiting to see what the stranger in his creator's house would do, perhaps. Prepared to catch him in the act of anything nefarious.

Stephen paused in the shadows, just out of sight of the outside world. His senses tingled.

Someone was watching the house.

He astral projected immediately and darted toward the cluster of human figures lurking beyond the property line. Black suits, black vehicles, high tech equipment. This was certainly some sort of government agency. A covert agency. But were they here for him or for Tony?

He drifted through their near frozen forms, having separated his projection from the ordinary passage of time. He found a file labeled STARK sitting on a dashboard.

Rhodes was the military liaison, and first point of contact with the government for most things related to Iron Man. So what department was this and what were they trying to accomplish?

Stephen frowned, deep in thought. Was it more important that JARVIS have a documented record of Stephen's exit, or was it more important that he not be seen by an agency that probably hadn't realized that he existed, both as a person and as an extra human body in the house? Keeping in mind that he had no car, had no intention of finding a ride, and had nowhere else to go.

Well. That was an easy decision.

He slipped back into his physical body and turned back around, making his way to one of the cliffside decks. Not only was there a spot out of JARVIS' camera view, should Tony decide to review any footage, it was barely plausible that he had simply chosen an unconventional exit point rather than somehow disappearing into thin air.

Nearly half an hour later, a small black cat picked its way along the edge of the cliff, scrambled over the rail of the deck further south, and entered the mansion in its usual fashion. That is, nearly inexplicably.

By the time Stephen picked his way through the mess and returned to the lab, the predawn light was just beginning to show, and the sounds of someone being violently ill drifted up from the workshop.

Stephen wrinkled his nose.

His momentum slowed even further, becoming more of a meander. His tail flicked slightly. He wandered into the lab as if he had just happened to come upon it. By then, Tony was rinsing out his mouth and appeared to be feeling very sorry for himself. But other than the hangover, his general state didn't appear to be worse.

Then again, Stephen had used magic to alleviate the worst of the symptoms the night before. Once he was certain Tony had been knocked out of his self-destructive spiral. If Tony was going to try to come up with new solutions, then he needed a clear mind, as unimpaired as they could manage.

It didn't heal much of anything, of course. It only masked the worst of the symptoms and took some of the edge off. Maybe reversed some of the most recent damage. Stephen wouldn't have risked it, except they were too close to running out of time. Now Tony needed to think more than he needed to draw out every last painful moment.

The cat stopped and looked away the moment Tony caught sight of him. His expression softened despite the lines of pain around his eyes. There was something like guilt there as well.

"Hey," the man said softly.

Stephen ignored him, going so far as to scratch his ear with a hind leg.

Tony was quiet for a moment, likely taken aback. Then he groaned and let out a disbelieving laugh. "Shit. You know you messed up when your shapeshifting partner refuses to acknowledge you, I guess. Or is that a cat thing? I feel like I heard something like that somewhere… Except you've never really ignored me like this, Stephen."

His ears twitched as he heard the other man step closer. When he saw the hand reaching out to touch him, he leaned away, baring his teeth as his fur bristled.

Tony backed off immediately. "Okay," he said. "Okay." He lowered himself to the floor with a groan. "Stephen."

Stephen scratched at himself again to show disinterest. It might be better to actually groom himself, but he refused to lick things when he was an animal. Especially when he was a cat. He didn't want hair or God knows what in his mouth, and he thought hairballs sounded absolutely disgusting, without actually hacking one up himself.

"I'm sorry," Tony said softly. "I shouldn't have yelled or pushed you out. And I know I acted like a real asshole. Worse than usual, I mean. I'm so sorry, Stephen, but please…" His voice broke.

So did Stephen's aloof manner. He clambered into Tony's lap, and let himself be held a little too tightly, even purring a bit. He also allowed himself just one lick to Tony's cheek above his goatee.

Tony smirked. "Aw, you should kiss me more. I wouldn't complain." He blinked, eyes glazing over in thought.

"Hey, JARVIS. When did Strange leave?"

Stephen wondered what had brought about that leap in thought.

"Dr. Strange exited at around 4:00 this morning."

"And no attempted security breaches, huh?"

That was a little insulting. Stephen had thought he'd proven that he wasn't up to anything. Nefarious.

He did kind of live with Tony without the other man's knowledge. Under false pretenses.

It sounded pretty bad when he phrased it like that.

But Tony was the one who had taken him in and bulldozed over his initial protests. And Stephen certainly wasn't taking advantage of him and giving nothing in return. At worst, he supposed it could be described as a symbiotic relationship. He liked to think of it as a relationship of equals. Mostly. He was still an animal in Tony's eyes, and with animal instincts.

"I would have informed you immediately if there had been, Sir." It was a little amazing how JARVIS could so effectively communicate his disdain without deviating from perfectly polite and even subservient language.

Tony smirked. They cuddled in silence for a while until the other man set him down so that he could push himself to his feet. He groaned at the effort and staggered slightly, catching himself on a nearby table. "Doughnuts," he muttered. "I need doughnuts. _Argh_." He squinted and flailed when JARVIS brightened the overhead lights unprompted. "And sunglasses. JARVIS, you are such a -"

"Yes?" The tone was expectant and verging on homicidal. The AI was obviously not any happier with Tony's self-destructive antics than Stephen was.

"The greatest and most forgiving disembodied child any person could ask for," Tony switched gears immediately. It seemed that severe hangovers didn't completely debilitate him. "Could you contact a crew to get everything cleaned up and repaired?"

"Already done, Sir."

"Great, thanks J."

He drained the rest of his bottle of water, grabbed a quick shower, and snatched a pair of sunglasses off the bedside table. He stepped towards his Iron Man suit, only to be blocked by Stephen. He yowled, the loud sound sending Tony staggering back a step with a wince and a reflexive hand to his no doubt aching head.

"Right. Right, sorry. Instinct." Tony stared longingly at the suit before turning to his garage. "You coming with, Stephen?"

Stephen hesitated, but turned away. It probably wasn't a good idea to leave the house unoccupied with covert agents lingering. He'd also noticed Tony stowing away a repulsor glove, so he'd probably be safe enough in public. JARVIS would be watching too.

"All right. See you in a bit. Hey, I'll bring you back some doughnuts." He strode over to his hot rod red car, slid inside, and peeled out of the driveway. Tony Stark traveled in style, after all, even if a slightly different style than his preferred superhero outfit.

* * *

Over time, JARVIS had learned how best to interact with Stephen. Part of it probably came from observing the way Tony treated him, and the tasks he had the AI do for his houseguest. But Stephen had also noticed that the more he interacted with JARVIS independently – particularly the projects out of Tony's sight – the more JARVIS tended to communicate without passively waiting for some sort of prompt on Stephen's end.

These days, he kept Stephen updated on Tony's activities when the inventor was away. Either because he knew now that Stephen understood, or because he had realized Stephen was interested. Or perhaps both reasons applied.

In any case, he told Stephen the moment Tony was waylaid by a man called Director Nicholas Fury, and then when Natalie Rushman was proven to be an agent called Natasha. Their excuses for the subterfuge were passed along, and JARVIS was just explaining what SHIELD was – it was not an organization Stephen had ever heard of, and considering the power they seemed to wield, he undoubtedly would have if it had existed in his world – when he sensed people approaching the mansion. Right after, JARVIS cut himself off with a warning about the trespassers, and then that someone was attempting to hack him.

Stephen growled when the AI pretended to be shut down. He considered staying hidden in the lab. No one was getting through those doors without the equivalent of a grenade launcher. But he wanted to keep an eye on the intruders, and even if JARVIS was watching, two eyes were better than one. Not to mention, the cameras weren't present everywhere.

Stephen stalked toward the group, keeping to the carpeted areas where possible in order to prevent the sound of his nails giving him away. He wanted a good look at them when they thought they were alone.

Perhaps it was his bias, but most of the group looked rather unsavory. That might just be the way they were waving around electronic devices, or it might be because they were examining anything that looked remotely like something technological set in the walls. Stephen hoped JARVIS was watching closely, as he wouldn't put it past them to plant bugs in the house.

They were the group he'd noticed watching the house, at least, so he didn't have to worry about Tony being under the surveillance of multiple suspicious government agencies.

He growled deliberately when they began moving further into the house. His body was tense, head high and ears forward, with just a hint of bared teeth. Several agents startled, hands flying to weapons; every one of them was armed.

"Jesus," one of them breathed, relaxing slightly once they registered his presence. "I knew Stark had a dog, but I didn't realize how big it was."

"One of you, keep an eye on him," a man with a bland expression, receding hairline, and unassuming demeanor ordered. "I'd say lock him outside, but, well…" They all instinctively turned to look at the destroyed wall. "Find some treats or something to pacify him if you have to. I'd rather save the tranqs for a last resort. Robardson, sweep up what glass and rubble you can here. No, don't argue, we really don't need to leave tracks throughout the house. The rest of you, stop getting distracted and get to work. Director Fury said that Stark is on his way back."

Racing back, Stephen assumed. The other man did like to speed when Stephen wasn't in the car with him. It made him nervous, thinking that the other man might end up crashing like Stephen had, so he tried not to think about it at all. JARVIS would have notified him the moment the home invasion began, so it shouldn't take him too long to get there.

There was no use trying to stop the agents. He couldn't unless he wanted to betray just how unique he was, and he had no desire to end up back on an autopsy table or worse. Especially not when it wouldn't accomplish anything. JARVIS could keep them from anything sensitive on Stark servers, and he could keep them out of the lab full stop. Stephen just needed to pay attention to anything they left behind. He'd have to pick which ones to follow, but once he knew what he was dealing with, his magic could take care of the rest when they were gone. If Tony didn't deal with it first.

He followed the ones who kept moving deeper into the house. His body never lost its tension, his gaze always on them as he followed close enough to trip them, or settled his bulk in the way of whatever they wanted to examine. The most he could manage was to delay them as much as possible until Tony returned. And he managed to be obnoxious enough that one of the men, scarred and bulky with short, dark hair, began fingering his gun. That one, with a hard expression and a shrewd gleam in his eye, Stephen decided to watch carefully.

He was right to trust his instincts. This man immediately headed for the lab door upon noticing what the room was. It was locked, of course, and locked down. But the agent was obviously prepared to try his very best to bypass it.

Stephen growled in warning, and was forced to dodge an irritated kick.

"Get out of here," the man scowled.

Stephen's ears pricked up despite himself. He thought he could hear tires on the long driveway.

The man had extracted a small device from a pocket, and was running his fingers along the outside of the access panel.

Stephen began barking explosively, shouldering his way between the man and the door. He ignored the hissed, "Shut up!" and ducked the fist that lashed out at his head so that it clipped his shoulder. His teeth snapped shut on a pants leg and he shook his head hard enough the that man stumbled back and nearly fell. The fabric was ripped from his jaws when the foot struck his chest hard enough to throw him back. He yelped in pain, and continued to bark as loud and long as he could.

That was when the agent lost his patience and drew a gun on him.

_Shit_, Stephen thought. He'd thought the man would go for some sort of tranq, not be stupid enough to use a gun against a powerful public figure's beloved pet. He didn't stop barking, but he did prepare an obscure shielding spell that he hoped wouldn't be noticed if used.

It surprised both of them when a stocky figure suddenly barreled into the agent hard enough to slam him into a wall.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Tony Stark bellowed, incandescent with rage. One hand held tight on the man's collar, restricting his breathing and holding him in place, while the hand wearing an Iron Man gauntlet crushed the gun into a lump of useless metal. He then grasped the agent's shirt in both hands, pivoted, and threw him up, over, and to the ground with enough force to knock the breath out of him.

"Stark!" An imposing man in a trench coat and eye patch stomped down the stairs.

"Get out, you and your goddamn agents get the fuck out of my fucking house. I was willing to play along and play nice, Fury, despite the lying and the stabbing, but one of your guys just fucking tried to _shoot my dog_! For guarding my lab! For doing his job! I won't even ask what the hell the bastard was hoping to find, 'cause let's face it, he did not just accidentally stumble across the door and think it was a bathroom."

Stephen limped over to Tony's side in hopes of calming him down before he hurt himself, or his mouth ran away with him. Tony's eyes narrowed at the evidence of injury, and he kicked the downed agent in the leg.

The man swore, colorfully.

"Enough, Agent Dovin."

"Yes, sir," he said through clenched teeth, pushing himself to his feet.

"Were you about to fire on this dog?"

"Sir, the dog was acting aggressively and appeared ready to attack – "

"That is not what I asked, agent," Fury interrupted with a glare. "Do not make me ask again."

"Yes, sir, I was prepared to shoot to defend myself."

"And you did not have any means to non-lethally subdue it without shooting it?"

"I am trained to reach for my gun first when threatened."

Tony stepped forward, teeth bared in a snarl. "You – "

"Back to the van, agent," Fury interrupted. He turned to the businessman almost vibrating in his anger. "Agent Dovin will not be returning."

"The rest of you can follow his example. I'd really prefer never to see any of your lying, spying faces ever again."

"I can't do that, Stark."

"Oh?" Tony focused his gaze on Fury the instant Dovin was out of sight. It demanded an explanation.

"I told you, you haven't tried everything."

Tony glared at him, before finally nodding. "Fine. I'll meet you poolside. But let me be very clear, here. You or your agents try anything, _change_ anything, leave _anything _behind that might even _hint _at impinging on my rights or threatening the secrets of my company or patents, and I will drag your entire organization and _its_ secrets into the public eye. It'll be fun. Like having front row seats to a three-ring media circus." He smiled without humor, body language deliberately, deceptively casual. But his eyes were hard with promise.

Fury's expression betrayed none of his thoughts, but Stephen saw with more than eyes, and he could feel the storm roiling beneath the surface. The director inclined his head and turned to go, throwing one last parting shot. "I'd hope you would do better than to risk the security of the world."

Tony remained stock still, locked into place until Fury was gone. The muscles in his leg felt like stone where Stephen's flank pressed against him. Then the man spun and slammed a fist against the wall.

Stephen yipped a little in surprise and worry. He crowded close as Tony doubled over, clutching his wrist as he hissed curses under his breath.

"Yeah, I know," he said when he got his breath back. His knuckles were split and his hand trembled a little as he gently flexed it. "That was stupid. But nothing's broken."

Tony dropped to his knees then and clutched at him, exhaling shakily. His forehead was pressed against Stephen's fur.

"You can't change, okay?" he whispered fiercely. "Not even after they're gone, not until I say you can. Okay? Please, Stephen. You have to be a dog, you have to be safe from them. Don't be alone with them. Okay?"

Stephen nuzzled him and licked his cheek. When Tony drew back to look at him, he nodded his head once, deliberately.

Tony sighed in exhaustion and relief. "All right." His knees popped as he stood up. He grimaced and said, "Let's go see what their play is."


	9. Chapter 9

Stephen sprawled across Tony's lap as he flipped through his father's old notebooks while an ancient home video – on a format so obsolete he had never used it before and had almost forgotten it had existed – played on the screen. He was still in dog form, not just because agents of SHIELD still lingered and might have been watching, but also because that was what Tony needed. The size and weight of him to ground him. A form substantial enough to hold onto.

Stephen had been glued to Tony's side since SHIELD had invaded. He'd stayed with him throughout his meeting with Fury, and suppressed his urge to growl when that had just made the businessman anxious and paranoid on Stephen's behalf. He was still keyed up from Stephen's near-miss with Dovin's gun, and the sorcerer had tried not to trigger a panic attack.

Ironic as it might be, Fury just made him so angry. His high-handedness, his deceit, his manipulations. Fury might be THE spy, but Stephen was no inexperienced novice and he had something of an outsider's perspective. He might not know what, exactly, Fury's ultimate goal was, but he could take a few guesses. More than that, he immediately caught onto the method, at least. The focus on Howard Stark, the deliberate goading. Dangling information but not giving any answers, before taking off with hardly a backward glance.

Stephen was glad that the director, at least, left so quickly. He was less pleased to realize that they knew of whatever disturbance he'd sensed earlier in the Southwest. The Order would take care of it if it were malevolent, but now both his pride and pettiness were inflating his curiosity and urging him to beat SHIELD to it. If it weren't for Tony, he might have given in.

But Stephen had heard what Tony had said to Fury about his father, had sensed the building storm of negative emotion as he was forced to dwell on Howard Stark.

So he had stayed.

It was hardly a difficult decision.

Unfortunately, everything seemed to be either irrelevant or a dead end. He could tell that Tony was becoming discouraged. He kept going, though. Stephen tried to help, but he mostly just followed along. Engineering wasn't his area of expertise. Not for the first time, he felt inadequate around Tony. It was still not an emotion he was accustomed to feeling.

Something about the video caught Tony's attention. Beyond Howard suddenly addressing Tony directly – the watching Tony, not shooing his younger self from the room. Stephen lifted his head, tail wagging slowly as he looked up at his current human couch. It wasn't the 'ah ha' moment that preceded a burst of inspiration, but it was a step in the right direction.

Tony finished going through the boxes before sitting back in thought. He seemed distracted, fingers tapping the edge of his arc reactor. "I should go see Pepper," he said abruptly. "I need to…I can't – I…should apologize. Yeah?"

_Probably_, Stephen thought. He didn't know what had happened with them the night before, but if it was anything like Tony had been with Stephen, it wouldn't have been pretty. He wasn't sure now was really the time, but there wasn't exactly a lot of time left. And nothing good ever came of putting off an apology either.

Stephen slid down onto the floor so that Tony could get up.

"You're coming too," Tony said when he didn't follow.

Stephen's ears flattened, but he followed reluctantly.

"Sorry, dear." Tony did sound honestly apologetic. "I'm not leaving you alone and vulnerable with the lackeys hanging around. I mean, I might be persuaded to leave you barricaded in the lab, if you really preferred."

But Tony had a desperate need to be in control when it came to the well-being of his loved ones. And having Stephen out of his sight in territory already overrun by the enemy, no matter how objectively safe a reinforced area might be, well… That would do his anxiety no favors.

Tony was kind enough to pick one of his non-sports cars, and to drive the speed limit. He also didn't say anything when Stephen took one look at the cliffs they were driving along, and curled up shaking on the floor of the car. It did prompt Tony to drive even more slowly, however.

Some time later something on the side of the road ahead must have caught his attention. "Would taking a break help?" he asked, slowing further and preparing to turn off.

Stephen whimpered and curled up more tightly. His front paws hurt, and knowing it was mostly psychosomatic didn't do anything to help. He couldn't stomach the idea of dragging this out. It didn't even matter whether or not they were still next to a cliff.

"All right, Stephen. It's all right. I'm sorry." He sped up a bit and kept driving. "If I'd realized the view would make it worse, I'd have taken a different route, or let you stay in the lab."

He fell quiet, turning something over in his head before saying, "JARVIS, have a bouquet of flowers delivered to Ms. Potts immediately."

The AI acknowledged the request and complied.

When they finally arrived at the office building, Stephen tumbled out of the car the moment Tony opened the door, tail whipping from side to side in relief. He was too large as a dog for Tony to pick him up, but Tony crouched down to his level. Hidden by the cars parked beside them, he disregarded his expensive suit and gathered Stephen close. He burrowed into the man's tight hold, and Tony stroked his fur soothingly, allowing his muzzle to rest in the crook of his neck until he was calmer and more relaxed. Stephen hadn't even realized he'd been whining near silently until he stopped.

"Better?" he murmured.

Stephen ducked his head and had to concentrate to keep from tucking his tail beneath him as he took a few steps towards the main building in response. He'd seen horrors humans couldn't even imagine, had treated with beings the human mind was not meant to comprehend. He was haunted by nightmares, though less since spending most of his time as an animal.

It had been centuries since his car crash. He'd been through far worse. He should be over it by now.

"Hey, no." Tony hooked an arm over his shoulder and coaxed him back, encouraging Stephen to look at him. "You don't let me wallow or try to hide alone when I have my moments." He gently squashed Stephen's face between his work-rough hands. "There's nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about. Got it? If you need more time, we'll take more time."

Stephen was glad that human facial expressions were impossible for dogs. He didn't even want to know what sort of embarrassing expression he might have if he were in human form. A wagging tail was at least somewhat ambiguous and less…soft. Mawkish.

He leaned in to lick Tony's nose, amused by how it scrunched up, and then deliberately turned back in the direction of the SI building.

Tony caught up easily. "I guess all I had to do was say something to get kisses from you."

Stephen growled and sped up a bit, refusing to look at him.

Tony laughed.

The pair strode through the lobby, Stephen slowing to follow him to the elevator that would take them closest to the CEO's office. Several people did double-takes and looked like they were thinking about stopping them, but Tony Stark on a mission was, apparently, a bit too intimidating. Or quick. One of the receptionists was just standing to approach them when the elevator doors opened.

The 'meeting' with Pepper was…well. It began with Pepper on the phone attempting to put out fires while alternately glaring at Tony and ignoring him. Tony at least had the sense not to interrupt further, but it just seemed to go downhill from there, especially when some offhand comment about strawberries came up. Stephen winced and thought about hiding beneath the desk, but that would put him between the two of them, which was the last place he wanted to be at the moment. So he sighed internally and simply leaned against Tony's legs in support.

Then Natali– Natasha entered the room, and he was on his feet in an instant, fur bristling and a low, almost inaudible growl vibrating in his chest. Why was she still here?

"Stephen, no," Pepper said sharply after a stunned silence.

He looked at her, and realized that she didn't know. She didn't know who Natasha was or what she'd done.

"It's fine, Stephen," Tony murmured, nudging him gently in reassurance.

Why hadn't he told Pepper? Or fired the spy? The sorcerer remained wary, but suppressed any overt aggression.

He was too distracted to notice when Tony's attention was caught by the original Stark Expo diorama. But it was extremely difficult to miss it being loaded into the car.

* * *

There were quite a few advantages to being mindbogglingly wealthy, Stephen thought as he watched the delivery of large, highly specialized scientific equipment within 24 hours of ordering. And the focused, easy way in which Tony hammered enormous holes in his house. Maybe the prior destruction of part of his mansion made it easier to add to it.

Or maybe it was the promise of a solution. The promise that this wasn't the end. That he wouldn't die here.

Stephen wasn't exactly trying to hide his own good mood either. His tail wagged almost continuously, and however he tried to deny it, he did in fact prance along at Tony's side. He even occasionally deigned to hold things for the other man if they weren't filthy or covered in grease.

This was hope, at last.

Tony had solved the puzzle, had seen what Stephen never would have thought to look for. That moment within the blue glow of an atomic structure Tony had recreated, with that honest, delighted smile on his face and the light in his eyes, had made Stephen grateful for his photographic memory. It was one of those moments he would hold close, and look back on when he was feeling down.

He shook himself and focused back on his self-appointed tasks. Which was, mainly, thinking ahead and encouraging Tony to move what valuables and volatile materials he had left in the line of fire to a safer location. One of them needed to be sensible, and Stephen was becoming resigned to acting as the designated sensible being in this relationship.

He conveniently forgot to consider every time he was injured or nearly-injured in his zeal to take care of Tony.

The SHIELD agents remained mostly inconspicuous until Tony was nearly finished with his construction. Stephen was at his side when Coulson approached and was subsequently distracted by a largish metal disc. Stephen didn't understand the significance it seemed to hold for the two of them, enough for Tony to subtly needle the other about it. There was something familiar about the design, though whether that extended beyond its reminiscence of the American flag, the sorcerer couldn't have said.

Regardless, the inclination for pettiness that remained a part of Stephen's personality was somewhat assuaged by Tony's fucking with the agent. Especially in such a way that it couldn't be called out, and possibly passed unnoticed altogether.

Hearing that SHIELD would be pulling out was a relief. They might not have actually done anything further since Tony had threatened the director, not even to enforce the likely-illegal house arrest, but that didn't make their presence any more welcome. All of the residents of the mansion had been on edge, and Stephen knew that JARVIS had been keeping mostly silent and watching closely. He might also have been hacking the shady organization, but even with some of their equipment on site, the sorcerer wasn't sure how far he would get. He was, after all, working around their attempted interference with his systems at the same time.

Coulson's comment about a trip to New Mexico was confirmation that they were still trying to figure out that whatever was happening in the Southwest. It had taken Stephen a while to place the naggingly familiar energy as the Bifrost. He'd been thankful that he wasn't the one who had to deal with the Asgardians, and hoped that they hadn't brought their problems with them. They might have been powerful allies, but he'd never been impressed with their xenophobic attitude. He'd really hated those few times he'd had to deal with Odin, and much preferred interacting with either Frigga or Loki. He would have liked the chance to speak and work with them further, but outside of emergencies they'd all been busy with their own responsibilities.

Stephen was curious about why the Bifrost had been activated, but as he hadn't divined anything that might require his defense of this world, he had other priorities. It was unlikely that his preferred Asgardians were present, and he knew that the Ancient One was keeping an eye out.

He was very curious, actually. And too used to being able to satiate his curiosity.

But Tony came first.

He put it out of his mind and focused on the present. The interlopers had pulled out, and Stephen wanted to do a quick sweep for anything they might have left behind. He already had several examples of the bugs they'd placed while he had been watching. The sorcerer hadn't caught anyone planting or fiddling with anything after he had nearly been shot. A few had, in fact, been removed, though not all.

He would send out his magic to search more thoroughly when this project was over and he could make the time to do it. No doubt Tony and JARVIS would do their own deep clean, and Stephen could always add a ward to the defenses that would prevent unapproved devices from transmitting out.

He should do that, actually. Later.

But destruction was always safer than containment. Who knew what could be recorded, saved, and later retrieved manually?

So while Tony finished building his own personal particle accelerator, Stephen dug out one of the bugs still in place and sank his magic into it. Once his energies had identified what to seek, locate, and destroy, it only took a few moments to pass through the entire mansion. Most of the time was spent being especially careful of the lab.

He stretched and took a quick drink of water, returning to Tony's side just as the engineer finished triple-checking everything.

"Ready for this?" he asked, carefully placing a pair of specially made safety glasses on Stephen's face before slipping his own on. He had never been careless with lab safety, exactly, but Stephen noticed that he had become more stringent when the sorcerer had begun joining him in the lab.

Stephen barked once, tail wagging. This would work. Tony would create a new element, and the arc reactor would take to it, and he would stop being poisoned. This would work. It had to.

The particle accelerator started with a whine that had his ears flattening back. The machinery glowed blue in the darkened lab as it picked up speed. He flinched as a narrow sort of laser shot out in the very vague direction of the small, triangular piece of metal. It was Stephen's turn to whine as Tony used an enormous wrench to direct the laser, gouging a path through the far wall and slicing a cabinet of dangerous, flammable chemicals in half. Perhaps they could have planned this better? He prepared shields just in case something exploded, although it looked like they were going to be lucky this time.

The laser was finally angled correctly, and the triangular piece of metal wasn't being blown to pieces. It was, if Stephen wasn't mistaken, beginning to glow. He couldn't keep his heart from racing or his tail from wagging with cautious optimism.

It felt like forever, though it couldn't have taken long before the machine powered down. The core was still glowing.

Tony used a pair of pliers to remove it and place it into a spare arc reactor, while JARVIS congratulated him on creating a new element.

"Sir, the reactor has accepted the modified core. I will begin running diagnostics."

Stephen's dog form was no good at repressing excitement. He barked before he could help himself and spun in a quick circle, only to bound over to the table and heave his front half up so that his forepaws rested on the edge.

"I think this is it, Stephen," Tony said, voice tight with hope and hands uncharacteristically heavy in his fur. Stephen could feel the trapped energy beneath his skin as the man forced his breathing to be calm and even. "It's gonna take a bit of time, though, and that position isn't going to be comfortable for you." He gently nudged him back down onto all fours.

The diagnostics were still running when the phone call came in some time later. By then their energy had calmed out of necessity, and Tony was just beginning to complain at his bots about the lack of clean up.

So of course Tony, with the shittiest luck ever, received an ominous call from a dead man with the shittiest timing ever.

Stephen's nerves had been stressed almost past their breaking point after everything that had happened, and he just couldn't stop himself from growling during the entire call as Vanko spoke. Luckily, it was low enough that JARVIS shouldn't have any problem filtering it out when he didn't have the speaker muted.

It didn't surprise him when Tony grabbed the reactor before the tests were done. And Stephen couldn't blame him, not with lives on the line. He knew every moment counted. The new core had done well so far, there shouldn't be any serious problems. Hopefully.

Plus, Stephen would be there as backup, not that Tony would know. If anything happened, the sorcerer was confident that he could keep the reactor going long enough for Tony to figure out a fix.

He froze, knocked from his thoughts the moment the arc reactor snapped into place. His fur stood on end. There was a flare of that familiar energy, before it disappeared abruptly. Stephen suspected that Tony was now basically invisible to all forms of scrying, but the majority of his attention was taken up by his revelation.

He knew, now, why the energy of the arc reactor had felt familiar. Whether that was because it was closer in feel to its origins, or whether it was because he had just been thinking of Asgard and the Bifrost, he couldn't be sure. Not that it mattered. What mattered was what it meant.

Humans had been meddling with the Space Stone.


	10. Chapter 10

As Tony suited up, Stephen paced, mind spinning. How? How had the Space Stone found its way to Earth? How long had it been here, and how long people been experimenting on it?

Had Asgard never had it? Or had they somehow _lost_ an Infinity Stone on Earth?

How had the planet not blown itself up or become a beacon for one of the many alien races who would be more than happy and able to annihilate them for that almost unimaginable power?

All right, that might be underselling his – the – Order a bit. Assuming they knew where it was, he could understand not wanting to bring it into close proximity with the Time Stone. Honestly, more than one Infinity Stone just being on the same planet was too close a proximity. It made him nervous.

Unless they were actively being used, Infinity Stones generally didn't give off a lot of noticeable energy or power. And the mystical shield around the Earth should dampen most of that. However, it was hardly what he would call fool-proof, and who knew whether the person or people who had the Stone knew what they were doing, or what it was. He wasn't sure whether knowledge or ignorance was more dangerous here, honestly.

His suspicions that SHIELD was the one holding the Space Stone just agitated him further. Following the trail from Tony to Howard, who had helped found a shady organization whose mandate included the bizarre, unusual, and alien… He really hoped he was wrong.

Did it matter either way? What could he do about it? It wasn't his job any longer. He wanted nothing to do with Infinity Stones.

They were protected from all types of searching anyway, technical or mystical. If Stephen really wanted to locate the Space Stone, he would have to do so manually and rely on hacking and luck, even assuming that his suspicions regarding SHIELD were correct. He wasn't much of a hacker, especially if he didn't know what terms the organization would use to refer to the Stone, and his luck tended towards overwhelmingly bad.

No. He had no patience for an exercise in futility. It wasn't his responsibility. The Ancient One had far greater experience than he did, and was the native to this dimension. She hardly required his interference.

And Tony needed him.

Stephen shook himself, focusing on the grounding thought of Tony. His presence that drew the sorcerer to him, like a well of gravity to the here and now.

Tony, who was blasting off with a shouted good-bye.

The sorcerer trotted outside, setting all thoughts of Infinity Stones aside. He'd been meaning to visit the Stark Expo, anyway. Although he doubted he would get to see much of it this time. It was a shame, but there would be other opportunities. Tony would make sure of it, as would Stephen.

He half expected chaos and panic when he stepped through the portal onto Expo grounds, unnoticed thanks to the magic inherent in the sling rings. But the night seemed normal so far. There were no screams that he could hear, no running aside from the odd child as visitors wandered between buildings.

Stephen easily slipped into the crowd, his slacks, shirt, and jacket allowing him to blend in without a second glance. Pausing at a sign, he folded gloved hands behind his back and pretended to read as he considered where to position himself. Without knowing where the threat was located, or what that threat was, exactly, it would be better to have a broad view out of immediate eyesight. Especially if his self-appointed role was to protect the crowd while Tony took care of the threat.

Drawing up a mental map of the Expo was easy. He'd seen drafts and blueprints so often that he thought even someone without a photographic memory would have memorized it by now.

There were advantages to placing himself at the center of the grounds, but he was afraid he would be too slow to notice and respond if something happened to occur out of his immediate line of sight. He was also leery of leaving his back unguarded. He had never been able to shake the edge of paranoia when going into battle without his Cloak, no matter how many years had passed since he had lost it, nor how well he had learned to compensate for its absence.

Stephen chose to settle on a roof at one end of the Expo grounds instead. It would be more difficult to react to anything happening on the far side, but at least he could overlook the entirety of the grounds from his position. Deciding which end was a bit more difficult, but he assumed that the busiest and most vulnerable area would be near the main parking lot and shuttle stop.

The sorcerer leaned back against one rooftop access wall, crossed his arms, and settled into meditation. The weather was warm enough that his gloves were a little incongruous, but the point was not to be seen at all. He stayed away from the edge so his silhouette wouldn't give him away, and it was late enough that he should blend into the dark. Assuming anyone happened to look up, of course, which was rare.

Stephen opened his third eye just enough to see the clusters of human auras in the dark, unimpeded by physical obstructions. A bit like using infrared goggles, maybe. He also slipped his astral form just slightly loose of his physical body, without actually projecting as he usually did. Just enough so that distances would mean little and the passing of time was barely elastic enough to slow when he exerted his will. Astral projection had been an easy skill to learn, but this...merging, or disconnection…had taken years before Stephen could consistently achieve the proper balance, and then decades before he could fight with his usual competence while his astral form was partially loose of – and still overlapping – its flesh and blood temple.

He had begun learning for the challenge more than anything, and advanced out of sheer stubbornness. It wasn't a form of battle that he used very often, but when circumstances aligned, it was extremely advantageous.

It wasn't long before he saw a blaze of light like a falling star arcing toward the main hall. Stephen mentally scrolled through the information his photographic memory had picked up regarding the program for tonight. Justin Hammer was presenting, but the description submitted had been vague. Something to do with the military and weapons. Drones, perhaps?

Thinking about that grasping, showboating idiot as Vanko's patron was giving Stephen a bad feeling. A worse one. He'd heard ranting stories about Hammer from Tony, and he didn't like the form the imminent threat was beginning to take in his mind.

No time to prepare further. He shifted into a ready stance, hands loose at his sides. The sudden wave of screams gave him a split second warning before Tony crashed through the roof with a fleet of...of Iron Man knockoffs on his tail.

Well, that was horrible, and only going to get worse.

Stephen's hands flowed as he poured magic into the spell, ending with arms spread wide. Power pulsed outward, like a ripple, throughout the entire park. Because his attention was focused on the main stage building, it took only a crook of his fingers to ensure that the falling glass and debris would not fatally injure anyone. It was a subtle spell, and difficult for most to maintain alone for any length of time. It wouldn't vanish the shards, or completely shield the crowd. But it would alter the trajectory and speed of any shrapnel that would cause serious injury or death. A protective spell Stephen had made good use of in the past, as it was virtually unnoticeable in public.

Most of his attention followed Iron Man and his pursuers, mind calculating angles and consequences rapidly. When the bullets began firing, a second ripple shuddered throughout the park, and he leaned into the astral perception of passing time to manipulate the angles of the barrels just enough to ensure that none of the drones would hit anyone in the crowd.

"Get away from the people," Stephen muttered, watching Iron Man bank hard. Tony was doing a good job of keeping away from outdoor crowds, but there had been several close calls with visitors in some of the buildings. The east side garage had been practically destroyed, but Stephen had confirmed that it was empty of all life signs first.

He felt a bit like a conductor, actually, his hands twisting rapidly, feverishly to prevent collateral damage. And then his heart nearly stopped when several enormous metal suits marched from the hall in the midst of a screaming, panicking crowd. He could see the hundreds cut down so clearly in his mind's eye, fragile flesh and blood against projectiles and explosives in their midst.

Stephen had just been drawing up the best defensive strategy while also keeping up with the flock of drones hurtling through the air, when he realized that none of them were paying any attention to anything around them. All of their focus was on Tony, who seemed to be slowly picking them off.

It didn't mean that everyone else was safe, as evidenced by the shoulder cannon that missed and exploded in the distance. They – or the man behind them, to be more precise – cared nothing for collateral, but they weren't going out of their way to aim for the crowd either.

Stephen supposed that was the best he could ask for at this point.

Except…shit. One of the grounded suits was aiming at…quite a small aura. Stephen wasn't close enough to figure out _why_ it was targeting what was probably a small child. He was too horrified to care, fingertips burning with the power of the shield he was about to conjure. Luckily, Iron Man intervened just in time.

"Go away, idiot," he hissed. Thankfully, Tony seemed to have finally found an abandoned area to make a stand. As stray shots petered out and the crowd, much reduced and still evacuating, was at last left unmolested, Stephen brought his awareness back in. He seated himself back in his body fully, and let the spells he'd been running fade into the background.

All that he left in his immediate sphere was the magic he'd used to tag each of the drones. Considering their similarities to the Iron Man armor, Stephen had thought it was best to make sure that none of them could just disappear. Whether the person taking them was another future enemy or a shady government agency.

Plus, call him paranoid, but in his extensive experience anything an enemy left behind was cause for deep suspicion.

_Called it_, he thought to himself some time later. It was not a good idea to astral project so soon after what he'd just done, keeping his spirit balanced on the edge between physical and metaphysical. He'd created a small portal to retrieve Tony's hand mirror from his bathroom so that he could scry what was happening with him and Vanko. And Rhodes, apparently. Stephen had clenched his jaw until it ached, but he'd stayed out of it and trusted the pair to come out on top.

So he had a front row seat to the alarming, blinking red light on the drones' torsos.

Stephen did a quick search of the area around each of the downed drones. He had no experience disarming any bombs that were not purely magical, and this was no time to experiment. But he could contain the explosions if necessary.

The park seemed fully evacuated, but…that one looked too close to the street, that one too near a parking lot…

And there was one other life left, almost on top of one of the drones. Stephen's heart almost stopped when he realized it was Pepper.

Thankfully, Tony also seemed to realize that she was still there, as Iron Man raced through the sky directly for her. He scooped her up and flew into the night while an explosion chased their heels, the flames slowed down by Stephen's magic. Simultaneously, he dispersed some of the power of the other explosions that were positioned in areas that concerned him.

Then it was done. And unless it was the result of a medical condition, then they had managed to avoid any deaths as well. No doubt people would be calling it a minor miracle.

Stephen slumped back against the wall as he absently dismissed the hand mirror. Power was no problem for him, but precision could be absolutely exhausting. Especially with everything he had just accomplished.

"Everybody lives," he murmured to himself with a huff of laughter. "Just this once. Everybody lives."

Not Vanko. But the innocents. The bystanders. He had done it.

When was the last time he could say he had accomplished something like this?

Stephen choked back a sudden surge of tears. Ridiculous. He was being absolutely ridiculous.

He closed his eyes and breathed. He had nothing that needed to be taken care of immediately. Nowhere he needed to be. He could just…stay here until he felt recovered.

A familiar whine and clanking interrupted his not-quite-meditation.

"Hey, you okay? Hey – oh damn, Strange!"

Stephen winced a little at the crashing, bone-jarring thud of every step the Iron Man armor made as Tony forced it to run.

"Shitshitshit," Tony muttered, yanking at the quick release of his gauntlets and letting them clatter to the ground. It left his hands free to check Strange over for injury. "What happened? Where are you hurt?"

Stephen jerked back. Tony scowled, undeterred, and reached out again to tilt his head back enough that he could check his pupils, and run his fingers through his hair in search of any head trauma.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

"You're slumped against a rooftop door overlooking a park that was just attacked and is still exploding!" the billionaire snapped. "What the fuck is someone supposed to think? What the fuck are you even doing here?"

He ran a hand along Stephen's neck and shoulders, and down his chest, sharp eyes searching for any hint of pain or evidence of injury.

Stephen wanted to smack Tony's hands away, but that wasn't a motion his own hands would support at the moment. "I'm fine. I'm not hurt. Nothing even touched me. I took cover up here."

Tony looked incredulous. "So, what? When the screaming and shooting started, rather than down and out, your instinct was to head up?"

Stephen didn't care if it made no sense. He was tired, stretched thin, and in no mood for another verbal spar. He doubled down. "I was already up here. And people never look up."

The other man spluttered, fingers flexing like he wanted to strangle the sorcerer. "People never look – Strange, _most of them were flying_. The first part was almost solely _aerial combat_."

Stephen tensed, a nagging thought finally connecting. "Right," he said, shaking his head as if that would spark greater awareness. "Right. Sorry. I didn't ask – are you injured? And you were poisoned, has the situation been resolved? Are there side effects that you've noticed?" There were only a few scattered cuts and bruises on Tony's face. The Iron Man armor made it almost impossible to tell if there were further injuries on his body.

Tony groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. "Oh my God, you – _I'm_ fine." His attention snapped back down, something wild in his gaze and, exacerbated by the lingering adrenaline still pumping through his system.

Stephen was very familiar with the aftermath of battle, the wild, jittery energy that never ended when the fighting did, like a sugar rush right before the crash.

Tony crowded closer, his presence larger than his stature, and Stephen gathered enough energy to stand up straight, frowning as he tried to understand what was happening. "You. You are impossible. Absolutely infuriating." His hands gripped the front of Stephen's shirt. "Suspicious as hell. Such a pain in the ass."

"Well, you – "

Tony cut him off by yanking him into a kiss.

Stephen froze, mind going blank with shock. This was far from the first time he had been ambushed with a kiss, and he had long since learned to just go with it if the person wasn't an immediate threat. But it was different this time. For a long moment, he remained stiff and unyielding in his surprise.

Tony coaxed him into responding, nipping at softening lips, and humming in pleasure when Stephen began leaning into him. When the sorcerer automatically attempted to regain control, Tony slipped his tongue between parted lips and proceeded to devour him. To overwhelm him with heat as he bit just a little harder and manipulated him just so with a powerful fist grasping his hair.

This was different. This was Tony. Perhaps living as an animal in his household had influenced feelings, but overcome as he was, he felt safe. Protected. Lo – cared for. He could do nothing but submit.

When Tony abruptly broke away, Stephen was too far gone to even notice whine that escaped him.

"You're shaking."

The worried tone broke through some of Stephen's haze, enough that he realized most of his weight was sprawled against the engineer's chest. He was pretty sure the armor was what was keeping them on their feet.

"They do that," he mumbled belatedly.

"No…Strange, your body is shaking," Tony said, arms tightening around his back.

Oh. He was. Because it was Tony. Because he never gave up control, but he'd given up all control to him. And now he was…limp…plastered against his front and trembling.

"I need to go," he choked out.

"Seriously, are you okay? Did you get hit by something after all?"

"No. No, it's just…shock." That was probably too accurate, actually, though not related to the attack. "I have to go."

"Alright. Okay." Tony was running a hand up and down his back, and that soothing sensation was actually making things worse. "Let me give you a ride down, at least."

"Fine," Stephen said with a small nod, forcing his body back under control. He stepped back so that Tony could grab his gauntlets and slip them back on.

"Hold on tight," he said with a shadow of his former showmanship, and swept Stephen up in a bridal carry. The sorcerer threw his arms back around Tony's neck and scowled faintly at the indignity. "Hope you're not afraid of heights."

"Hardly," Stephen scoffed.

In no time at all, Iron Man was setting him back down on the ground. "Wait," the other man said abruptly as Stephen turned to go.

He turned back, lifting a brow in inquiry. His jaw was clenched. He would not fall apart. Not yet.

"At least give me a number or something, so that I can make sure you got home safe."

Stephen pursed his lips, and then sighed. "I don't have a phone," he muttered.

Tony's eyes widened in disbelief. "Don't have a – how the hell can you not have a phone? Who doesn't own a _phone_?"

The sorcerer rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine," he said, turning to go. His heart felt like it might explode out of his chest, his stomach was twisted up into knots, and he felt a little lightheaded, but at least he'd regained enough control not to look it.

"At least give me your name," Tony said desperately.

Stephen paused.

"Come on, I've had my tongue down your throat," his sharp eyes didn't miss the taller man's slight shiver, "I think we should at least be on a first name basis."

"Ah, Vincent. Call me Vincent," he conceded, before striding away. Anywhere but there. Using 'Stephen' would just be tempting fate further.

"Dr. Vincent Strange," Tony muttered. "I'll be seeing you," he called to Stephen's back. There was promise and determination in his voice.

It wasn't a good idea. But Stephen had no doubt that Tony spoke the truth.

* * *

I was a little uncertain about having the first kiss in this scene, since I didn't want it to seem like Stephen was just a replacement for Pepper. But the timing seemed right, and I was a little impatient to finally get to the ironstrange. I hope this worked as well as I thought it would!


	11. Chapter 11

Tony woke with a strangled shout, bolting upright in bed before his mind caught up with the present. His arms flailed a beat too late. Stephen was always grumpier than usual when he sent the small cat tumbling, but the expected yowl didn't come. When the panic cleared and he could think again, he realized that there had not been a soft, warm weight on his collarbone, nor a small, furry lump in the crook of his neck.

Thinking back now, he didn't remember seeing his roommate when he'd finally returned home in the early hours of the morning, wrung out from battle, from speaking with the police, and from getting cleanup going while dodging SHIELD. Tony had collapsed into his bed and passed out almost immediately.

He hadn't exactly been in very good shape to begin with. He might have solved the poisoning problem, but he had by no means recovered from it.

At least he'd managed – Tony had JARVIS repeat the time – a respectable seven hours or so before nightmares interrupted.

"JARVIS?" He interrupted his AI's standard waking litany again, voice tight with a lingering fear from his dreams, and stoked by his current worry. "Where's Stephen?" Had SHIELD seen something? Stephen might have remained in one shape, but if they realized…if they caught him finding his way through locked doors…making his own meals…if they realized exactly how intelligent he was… Tony might not know anything about animals, but movies had given him a vague understanding of what was usual. He suspected that Stephen comprehended even more than he let on to Tony. Had they taken him? Stolen him away while Tony was gone or insensate?

His mind spiraled, hands shaking. It would be a simple thing to drag SHIELD out with legal battles. To tie them up with attention and fees that they couldn't afford. It might require a bit of hacking, but an agency like that would have all sorts of skeletons for him to choose from. And considering his father's connection and their current interest in him, he had no doubt that several of those skeletons would be related to him.

It would be simple. But not quick.

Stephen might not have the time to wait. Literal battle would be much quicker if he could find his location.

"He left at around a quarter after one this morning, Sir." JARVIS' cameras must have caught whatever expression was on his face, as he added, "Once he had confirmed that your new arc reactor core worked as predicted and without complications."

Tony slumped back, weak with relief. The aftermath of his nightmares had been a springboard into increasingly dark thoughts and irrational fear. Stephen was safe. That was what mattered.

He didn't ask how Stephen had confirmed it. He couldn't have said why. But JARVIS would alert him to anything dangerous, and he still wasn't sure that he was ready for the specifics of whatever Stephen got up to when Tony wasn't around.

Maybe nothing. Maybe his imagination was a bit too active.

Feeling a little abandoned, Tony buried his worries and got ready for the day. JARVIS set up an appointment with his cardiologist and one of the best clinical toxicologists on the West Coast, after confirming everything with Tony. Symptoms and side effects, after all, did not just miraculously disappear, however much he might wish for it.

The pre-appointment paperwork was also expedited; basically, NDAs that also served as an explicit warning. If any hint of Tony's condition or insight into arc reactor tech was slipped to anyone outside of those present in the appointment, the doctors – and probably their employers – would find themselves buried under lawsuits and ruined professionally, monetarily, and reputationally.

Tony pushed the unpleasant topics out of his mind until he absolutely had to deal with them. Instead, he made a beeline for his lab and sequestered himself inside with the intention of repairing and updating his armor.

And yet, despite the necessity of the repairs, and despite the new and exciting ideas he had for improvements, he found himself distracted. He tinkered halfheartedly with a few of the pieces, jotted down notes for updating the programming, and more than once found himself fidgeting with the laser pointer he'd left at his workstation.

Tony's lips twitched at a memory as he clicked the laser on and off. He freely admitted to having poor impulse control, and he hadn't been able to resist toying with Stephen. Especially when he could justify it as an experiment. For science.

Through trial and error, Tony had been able to discern that the moving red dot only affected Stephen when he was a cat. And since he tended to favor that form in private, well. He had to be sure of his conclusions, didn't he?

Stephen always tried so hard to ignore it, too. But without seeming to notice, his body would shift into a crouch, muscles tensing. Sooner or later he'd pounce, lost in his instincts for several long minutes as he scrambled to catch the red dot, until Tony took pity or Stephen managed to pull himself out of it.

It always made Tony laugh to watch a being with so much control lose it in such an adorable fashion. The disgruntled, bitchy expression as Stephen struggled to regain his dignity in the aftermath was worth it, as was the inevitable payback.

Tony groaned, and tossed the laser pointer away from him.

It was no use playing the avoidance game. For all that had happened the night before, he couldn't stop thinking about the kiss.

He couldn't stop worrying.

Always before Strange had been an unshakeable, immovable rock. Sometimes in his more fanciful or frustrated moments Tony compared him to a marble statue, unaffected by the possible chaos and danger that often congregated around Tony, and unreadable unless he was feeling generous. More often than not, he dragged the superhero closer to some semblance of wellness or safety.

Last night had been the first time Tony had seen the man vulnerable. He'd seemed, suddenly, so fragile in his arms, and shockingly submissive. He'd caught a glimpse of what lay behind Strange's formidable walls, and like an addict, he wanted more.

He wanted to know everything about him for reasons beyond curiosity and a challenge. He wanted him to be okay. He wanted not to have hurt him.

Tony just wanted. He was a little shocked by how much.

"Vincent," he murmured out loud. Testing.

Tony knew that when he fell, he fell too fast, and too hard, and gave too much of himself. Throwing money at his problems was a habit he hadn't even attempted to break. What wouldn't he do for someone he actually…cared for?

Was it any wonder he had become fixated on Strange? Tony had never been protected. Not by someone who wasn't somehow benefiting in some way, generally by salary or favors.

Well, except for Yinsen…but that was a nightmare he couldn't think about right now when he was still recovering from so many others and another near-death.

Vincent Strange wasn't compensated, so far as he could tell. He didn't expect anything. Didn't ask for anything. Didn't even take anything.

And he might be an asshole, but he was a genuine one. Strange didn't dial it up because he was Tony Stark, nor did he attempt to hide it. He was just an enigmatic, prickly asshole who cared.

Tony's poor heart didn't know what to do with that.

He frowned, snapping back to the present. "JARVIS," he said, "let's revise that search for Strange."

"Of course, Sir." His AI's tone was highly judgmental.

Tony made a face in response, but didn't comment. "Search for any combination of the name 'Vincent Strange', or any significant connection of the name 'Vincent' to a 'Strange'." The way Strange had phrased it, Tony thought it was unlikely that Vincent was his actual first name. But it was always best to be sure, and he had chosen a name quickly enough that it must have some sort of relevance at least.

"Narrow it down to male…in North America…within the last, oh…75 years, just to be safe."

"Any further parameters?"

"Nah," he said, leaning back in his chair and dropping his head back. "Let's see what you come up with first. Given what a dud the last search was, it's probably better to start broad and work from there." He'd narrowed it down to nothing, none of his results the man he was looking for, and attempting to broaden it again left him with far too many possibilities. JARVIS couldn't look through them to save him time, since for whatever reason facial recognition searches for the man failed.

With nothing else to distract him, Tony grabbed for one of his holographic projections and started working on figuring out a way to summon his suit without endangering any passersby. Some sort of homing device, maybe, and environmental sensors? Scanners? The suitcase suit was all well and good, and getting it portable had been sheer genius on his part, but having to lug it around in case of emergency would be inconvenient.

It was a good stepping stone, though. Not just for portability, but also for independent assembly away from the staging area and machinery that he'd had to use originally.

Lingering distractions taken care of for the moment, Tony immersed himself in his newest project.

* * *

Stephen didn't show up for the rest of the first day, nor the next. Until Tony's palladium poisoning diagnosis, that wouldn't have been unusual. But since then, he had become accustomed to having Stephen around all day every day, and at his side when feasible.

Busy as Tony was – putting out fires from Vanko's attack and his own ill-advised antics, repairing and tinkering with his suit, assisting in the transition of SI under Pepper's leadership, professionally horrifying his doctors with his current health, and beginning treatment for the effects left from his long-term poisoning – he missed his animal companion. There was a Stephen-shaped hole in his life that had become more pervasive than he'd realized. And always, more or less well-hidden, the fear of abandonment.

Tony didn't sleep. He tried once or twice, but his mind would not be silenced, and there was no soft ball of fur curled up near his collarbone. He ate regular meals only because the sneaky little bastard had gotten him into the unthinking habit. He'd find himself automatically heading for the kitchen at JARVIS' quiet prompt.

Tony was almost manic by the third day. He _wasn't_ thinking of Stephen somewhere injured and unable to come back, or just deciding he'd had enough and fucking off. He'd never be able to find him again. Not if Stephen didn't want him to.

He tried working in his lab on anything that struck his fancy, but it was slow-going. He was easily distracted and some part of his body or another was always in pain. Now that he wasn't running on desperation and stubborn spite, the past few months had caught up to him. Compounded by his chelation therapy and worry, Tony just felt like shit. Constantly.

He might be glad that he survived, but he thought death would be less painful. Barring that, he would settle for sleep.

Tony did finally manage that after quite a bit of tossing and turning. He expected the nightmares to wake him after a few meager hours, as had become habit. Instead, he drifted back into the waking world peacefully, feeling groggy, unwilling to fight against gravity, and more rested than he had any right to feel.

And then he registered the soft fur against his neck.

"Stephen," he sighed, cracking open an eye. "You're back."

Stephen shifted and purred as he pressed closer.

"You smell like the ocean," Tony mumbled, catching a faint, briny hint as he inhaled. "Is that where you've been?"

They had a slow start to their morning. Tony still hurt, but he felt exponentially better now that Stephen was back and he'd gotten a full night's sleep. But he couldn't quite relax fully when Stephen's behavior seemed a little…off. A bit stressed, he thought as Stephen explored the house before following him around and down to the lab. But also a bit of guilt, he thought. Not…shame. Perhaps he appeared a little shaken, although Tony had no idea what about.

Just in case, though, "I missed you," he said caressing Stephen's ears, and stroking down his back all the way to the tip of his tail, which he gently tugged. "But I meant it when I said you were free to go, you know. Just…let me know, alright?"

Stephen twined around and against his legs as he meowed, before sitting down in front of his crouched form and batting at him with one of his front paws until Tony held out his hand.

"Deal," he said with a half-smile, hand closing ever-so-lightly around Stephen's scarred paw.

Slightly reassured, the engineer gave him one last pat and then headed toward his workstation. Meanwhile, JARVIS immediately pulled up and read aloud to Stephen the files regarding Tony's tests on the new element, as well as everything to do with his health, recovery, and the debriefings he'd done with the authorities.

That was kind of cute, actually, he thought to himself as the current dog tilted his head and listened closely while seeming to follow along. JARVIS even seemed to be able interpret which points drew greater interest from Stephen. It indicated just how much time the two spent interacting. Tony doubted how much his roommate actually understood, especially since even he had to do extra research to fully comprehend his medical results, but it warmed him to see just the same.

And then he focused completely on his engineering, and all other thoughts fell away.

* * *

Stephen was away when JARVIS pulled up the initial results of the search for Tony. He supposed that was lucky. One less pair of judgmental eyes.

It was also a bit unusual, as Stephen had been sticking close to him since returning a few days before and ensuring Tony strictly followed the directions of his doctors. As restless and impatient as he was with the necessary medical care, he had been feeling better once Stephen was around. And improving at a surprisingly optimal rate.

He figured it was partly a Pavlovian response since Stephen made him feel good emotionally – and, in a sense, physically when making sure he ate regularly and had a somewhat restful sleep – and partly a mind over matter, or whatever. Never mind why at the moment, he was just grateful to feel less like shit.

Frustratingly, none of the results of the search for 'Vincent Strange' appeared immediately correct or relevant, which meant more detailed research for at least the top ten results.

Stephen Vincent Strange had been the top result and, as usual, a dead end. Literally, in this case, Tony thought with a wince and a sense of regret. Stephen Strange had drowned in a lake near his parents' farm in Nebraska, on a visit home from college. The few pictures of him online were low-quality newspaper images or yearbook photos pre-digital age, and Tony couldn't tell whether or not he was imagining a resemblance there.

Nothing indicated any sort of foul play or an empty coffin – what even was his life that those were serious considerations – and his research into relatives only turned up more dead ends.

He had just finished and begun to look at the second most likely suspect on the list when JARVIS got his attention.

"Sir, according to surveillance footage, your Vincent Strange appears to be sitting at a table outside the Stark Expo Café."

Tony paused. "What?" he said, wondering if he was mishearing.

"Judging by the book he is reading, and a second beverage set across from him, he is waiting for someone and is likely to be there for a while longer."

He leapt to his feet and raced for one of his sportscars. "Son of a bitch," he growled. Logically, Strange wasn't actually taunting him, and probably wasn't waiting for him. But logic had nothing to do with this, and Strange defied all expectations.

He half expected the man to be gone by the time he arrived. Instead, Strange simply looked up, no book in sight, and hands folded on the table as he nodded for Tony to take a seat. A still-steaming cup of coffee waited there, and he had no thoughts of drugs or poison as he took a sip to find it prepared just as he liked it.

The silence between them stretched as Tony studied the tall, elegant man.

_I don't think I've ever seen him in daylight_, he realized. Somehow, Vincent Strange seemed even more beautiful than he remembered, bright sunlight sharpening all of his angles and reflecting off of blue eyes so bright they almost looked like they were glowing. He thought his eyes had been a grey-green the last time he'd been close enough to see them, and wondered at it.

Strange was dressed down now in a dark cardigan and jeans. Only the black leather gloves seemed out of place. _Have I ever seen his bare hands?_ Tony didn't think he had, although he had a vague, drunken memory of commenting on their shaking. He suppressed a cringe of embarrassment and regret and focused on the present.

The man across from him almost appearing relaxed, but Tony was perceptive enough to see the subtle tension in his body. He also seemed, for the first time, less than completely confident. His arrogance diluted.

"Were you waiting on me, Doc?" he asked as he took another sip of his coffee.

He could see Strange's mind working, contemplating and discarding responses before finally settling on, "Perhaps." For once, Tony thought that he might have the advantage in their encounter.

He remembered his last encounter with Strange, shaking and vulnerable, and his hand was reaching out before he could stop himself.

His companion froze as his hand gently touched one of Strange's. "If I did something you didn't – " he stopped himself and started over. No dancing around it. "If you didn't want me to kiss you, if you don't want me to get too close to you, then tell me, please. I'm sorry for…for ambushing you." At the time it had seemed like a natural progression. Like they were on the same page, and Strange wanted it as much as Tony did. But clearly, he had been getting ahead of himself.

"_No_," Strange blurted. And then, "Yes. I mean – " He stopped, conflict written all over his face.

"Okay," Tony drawled after several more moments of silence. "I'm getting some mixed signals here, Strange. Vincent. Doc." He snapped his mouth shut before he could throw out additional nicknames. Obviously, he himself was more nervous than he'd realized. Nervous in a way he rarely was, because this mattered more than he was willing to acknowledge quite yet.

Strange closed his eyes and took a deep breath, visibly forcing himself to calm down. He was more composed when he tried to speak again.

"I hadn't realized that you wanted…that. Me. And I didn't realize that I…wanted as well."

Tony's heart raced at the confession. His mouth felt a little dry, and he picked up his drink with his free hand. He swallowed his coffee to keep from interrupting.

"I've been thinking." Strange hesitated. "I don't see how this can work."

Tony tightened his grip on his cup, but kept the other hand gentle. "We can try," he said hurriedly. "We _should_ try. I'm not the kind of person who just gives up when something's hard. Are you?" he challenged deliberately.

His gamble paid off when those eyes flared in response to his goading. The way they always did. As if neither of them could help themselves, caught in an orbit that drew them closer even as they pushed and pulled at the other.

"And you'll be content to just, what, wait for me to appear?" Strange prodded. Now that Tony was looking, now that he knew the other man a little better, he could see the hidden hope, the wistfulness behind acerbic words.

"Don't keep me waiting _too_ long, dear," he responded, thumb finding the exposed skin of Strange's wrist and stroking lightly. "And don't expect me to stop looking for you either."

"I wouldn't dream of it." The taller man's gaze softened just a little.

"Oh," Tony said, a thought occurring to him, and hoping it wasn't too much. He looked up at Strange hesitantly from beneath lowered lashes. "I guess I should warn you that Stark Industries is just beginning to establish a secondary headquarters in Manhattan. In another year or two I'm likely to be primarily located in New York."

Strange looked back, head tilted slightly in thought. Before Tony could consider a sudden sense of familiarity, he said, slowly, "I still tend to think of Greenwich Village as home."

Tony didn't think he could suppress his blinding smile if he tried.


	12. Chapter 12

Running had been Stephen's first instinct, and he was a little ashamed to admit that he had followed it almost blindly. The only thing that delayed him – the only thing that could have – was his concern for Tony's health.

He ruthless grasped for some semblance of control, to at least _stop_ his _damned shaking_. But the moment he'd registered JARVIS' most current information on the updated arc reactor, the moment he'd realized that there weren't any unexpected side effects and that Tony would live, he was gone.

Stephen was, admittedly, reckless in his flight. It wasn't enough just to leave the man he had…the man he had come to care for more than he should. He needed distance from the place he'd come to think of as home. He needed distance from familiarity. He needed to think logically.

He needed to _think_.

He needed to stop thinking.

So, Stephen made yet another spectacularly poor decision, and shapeshifted into the first bird he saw. One he had never shifted into before, and one he couldn't fully identify beyond some type of tern.

And then, rather than mastering the form and instincts of his new shape, he gave himself over so that he could stop thinking, stop remembering, and stop panicking. Unfortunately, it worked a little too well. Even when he'd begun attempting to attract a mate, he hadn't snapped back into a more human frame of mind. At best, he'd subconsciously sabotaged himself so that his display was a bit lackluster.

No, it had been a group of idiot teenagers around a bonfire accidentally summoning a demon on the beach that had reminded him who he was. And even then it had taken him a frighteningly long moment of incomprehension. One of the children had almost been completely drained of their life before Stephen remembered who and what he was, never mind what he was looking at.

Luckily, there was only one demon of middling competence. It had taken him a few clumsy seconds to remember how to _be_ human, and in the middle of a battle was never good timing for it.

By the time he'd healed the one near-dead person left behind after the rest of the group had scattered, dropped them off at a hospital, and then cleaned up the aftermath of his battle, Stephen was feeling really fucking embarrassed. He knew he could make some poor decisions, especially when he was panicked or desperate. But this was just… Ugh. No one could ever know about this one.

And he still didn't know what the best path forward was.

Once cleanup was done, Stephen had dropped down onto a driftwood log and stared out at the water as he slipped into a meditative state. Something he should have done before fleeing into a new shape in the completely wrong frame of mind. The cool breeze quickly dissipated the acrid, smoky scent of fire and burnt hair, leaving only the briny air of the ocean.

He returned to himself only when the horizon just began to lighten in the pre-dawn. Maybe he hadn't come to any true decision on how to go forward, but he felt more centered. Had come to a few conclusions.

He didn't want to leave Tony as Stephen. He didn't want to hurt the both of them like that.

He didn't want Dr. Strange to disappear either.

He was attracted to Tony, but he couldn't see how they could have an actual relationship. They weren't required to have a romantic relationship. There was no pressure, except for what he put on himself.

He didn't know how to tell Tony that Stephen and Dr. Strange were the same person. He didn't know if he should. He didn't think he wanted to.

He didn't have to make a final decision about everything now. He could change his mind.

He could continue to be Stephen with Tony, and make up his mind about everything else later.

And he should probably get back to Tony before the engineer got too worried about him.

With a quick bit of magic to ensure that no one would notice him, Stephen shifted into the familiar form of a crow and winged his way back to Tony's mansion.

* * *

It was obvious that Tony had been worried about his absence. The two of them had grown closer over time, particularly once they had discovered the palladium poisoning. It had become unusual for Stephen to disappear for so long, these days.

And it wasn't as though Tony's fears were unfounded. Stephen had been contemplating disappearing altogether. Had almost managed it accidentally.

But now that he was back, he reassured the other man best by getting right into the swing of things, familiarizing himself with Tony's therapy regimen and ensuring that it was strictly followed.

He also stimulated Tony's healing with his magic, ensuring that the damage would be repaired faster than usual, and with no permanent side effects. Getting rid of the damage altogether and at once was risky in more than one sense, but strengthening a person's immune system and natural healing abilities could be extremely effective and much safer in the long run.

Stephen's days returned to normal, entertaining himself alone or with company, and at night he curled up and purred against Tony's collarbone as new nightmares wormed their way into the superhero's subconscious. All the while he pondered what to do about his human self.

Perhaps it should have felt awkward. A trespass, or even a voyeuristic invasion of privacy. If Stephen thought too hard about it, he did begin to have doubts.

But the truth of the matter was, he was not simply a man who took on the form of an animal, or appeared to be an animal. He _was_ that animal, for however long he held the shape. With human memories, and human comprehension, and a human soul, yes. However, even that was subject to change if done incorrectly.

He could feel affection and love. Even a platonic sort of attraction. Feelings related to romance and lust, on the other hand were…veiled, in a sense. Distant and almost theoretical, until he was human again. It was likely part of the reason that Stephen hadn't realized what was happening.

So, no. There was nothing untoward about sharing Tony's bed as a cat. No more than any other cat, really.

Having to explain this to Tony, though? That was one more, albeit minor, reason he was reluctant to get into any sort of relationship as a human. Never mind eventually revealing himself as a sorcerer.

Stephen knew, the more time he spent as a human, the more likely he would face crushing expectations and his former position as sorcerer supreme.

Oh, the Ancient One wouldn't force it upon him. She wouldn't have to. Stephen would trap himself. If he spent any significant time as a human, he would have to find a way to support himself. He couldn't be a surgeon, even if he had paperwork. Not with his hands, not without giving up the magic that had become an integral part of himself.

Any jobs that didn't need paperwork, or wouldn't identify fake papers, were not jobs he was interested in. And there was also the small matter of being able to leave whenever necessary to take care of any incursions or interdimensional threats.

It all boiled down to the mystic arts and the Order being his only true recourse. He would have room and board, a way to support himself, and people who understood his calling. He could have Wong in his life again, and his other old friends.

But they were all dead and buried. Had been for centuries, and he had come to terms with that loss. Had moved on as best as he could. These iterations, no matter how similar, were not the same people. This Wong was not his Wong.

It might still be worth it to befriend this one, regardless. But Stephen also knew that if he joined the Order, if he let himself be known to them and let them come to know him, then sooner or later they would look to him to take up the mantle of sorcerer supreme.

And he would do it. Because they needed him. Because the world needed him. Because he had experience none but the Ancient One could match.

Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps it was his arrogance speaking. Perhaps there were masters here that Kaecilius had killed in his world, that would have matched or surpassed his power and potential.

On the other hand, the Ancient One had known his name. And had felt the vibrations within this universe, the ripple of his arrival, the tremble of his other self's death. It was not too much of a stretch to think that Stephen Strange's path here ought to have mirrored his own path in his original universe.

_Lucky bastard_, he thought of his other self.

* * *

Stephen had had every intention of rejecting Tony Stark's advances. Had dropped the mystical field that rendered him unrecognizable and unnoticed on any technological recording, and gone into the meeting with a plan. A simple not interested, and a memorized list of reasons should it be required. Then he would disappear back into obscurity and only show up as human when necessary to preserve Tony's well-being until whatever event passed, and the other man ceased to be a fulcrum around which the universe might turn. Until the nexus point passed.

_So how,_ he asked himself as Tony led him through several of the Expo exhibits, _did I get here?_

One moment he'd been rebuffing any sort of interest in a relationship with the inventor, and the next he'd somehow found himself agreeing to try. And then, as if to capitalize on his capitulation – and it wouldn't surprise Stephen, what with the other having grown up in the business world – Tony had insisted on showing him around the best parts of the Stark Expo, and called it their first official date. Probably realizing that it would be best to cement Stephen's commitment before giving him too much time to think.

Tony could be far too perceptive. And dangerously charismatic.

Stephen was surprised to find himself…enjoying it. Their date. He'd known that Tony's enthusiasm was contagious and his intellect engaging. But this was the first time he could _be_ engaged, with a human language. Their back and forth, absent of any present crisis, was heady. This technology was obsolete by his standards, and Stephen was a user in this field rather than a creator, but Tony's perspective was fascinating. He could draw parallels to his own studies and experiments in the mystic arts.

Not that he could say that to Tony, of course.

The both of them were startled out of their little bubble by the closing announcements playing over the park intercom. Stephen hadn't realized just how long they had been exploring together, and judging by Tony's expression, neither had he.

Their future dates followed that same thread. Every couple of weeks Stephen would appear in Tony's orbit. Either in person, or somewhere he knew his presence would be picked up by JARVIS. Then they would slip away and find something to do or somewhere to go – movies, restaurants, the park, occasionally Tony's house.

Tony had even worn him down enough that, while he wouldn't risk getting a phone, he had ended up getting an email account. Conversation there was a little sporadic since even Stephen wasn't reckless enough to check his email from anywhere inside Tony's home or its grounds. He waited until his duties took him away, and then found the nearest public library with an open computer when everything was over and the world was defended.

But against all odds, their 'dating' seemed to be working. Not forever, of course. Their relationship as is wasn't sustainable indefinitely. Once Tony stopped being so busy, stopped taking longer and longer business trips to New York and finally settled down again, things would probably have to either change or end.

That, however, was a problem for another time. As was the question of near-immortality and the mass of secrets.

Because Stephen had tried this before. He wasn't a monk or a hermit, and despite how hard he tried sometimes, he could not live in complete isolation. He craved human – or even not so human – contact. Gentleness. Care.

So he would knowingly commit himself to experience pain again and again, because relationships with non-immortals would always end in heartbreak.

Not that his relationships with immortal and near-immortal beings was much better, Clea being the most obvious example of this.

He was just…bad at relationships period, he supposed.

Why the hell was he doing this to himself? After everything? This universe was supposed to be a clean slate where he could just fuck off and hide from everything.

Fucking Tony Stark, and damn his own curiosity.

Stephen fled to an animal form when his mind began to spiral like this. Any animal form. If he wasn't going to learn from his mistakes, then he was definitely not going to suddenly start implementing healthy coping mechanisms.

Against all odds, though, the current state of their relationship was surprisingly strong.

They clashed, of course. It was how they met. Both proud, headstrong, and opinionated, Stephen hadn't needed precognitive abilities to predict that they would fight. On the other hand, they also compromised and had learned how to bend. Somehow the pair seemed uniquely suited to each other. Their broken edges fit.

What Stephen hadn't predicted, and probably ought to have, was Tony's tactile nature. He couldn't seem to help himself, always fiddling with something in his hands or tapping his fingers. Or stroking Stephen's fur or feathers.

But it was very different when being touched in his human skin.

In the beginning Stephen tended to either flinch away or freeze. Tony would wince in response, a flicker of regret in his eyes. He was sensitive to Stephen's discomfort, and it hadn't taken him long to learn caution.

Tony hadn't stopped touching him, though. Hadn't deprived him, though Stephen would never admit to him his deprivation. The other man watched closely and touched sparingly – a wrist, his hair, his arm or lower back. Tony also made it obvious when he moved to kiss him, and didn't hold an embrace for overlong.

It took Stephen an unforgivably long time to recognize his end goal. Not until he found himself automatically leaning against Tony and turning into his touch did he realize.

_Like training a dog_, he'd thought in one of his more irritable moments, mentally tracing the gradual increase in Tony's tactile actions.

If he was being honest with himself, Stephen couldn't really complain. Touch that didn't hurt him – as a human – was something he had been wanting for so long that it had just become another part of him.

* * *

As time passed and completion of SI's second headquarters neared completion, Tony spent more and more time across the country, finalizing details and supervising construction. He had offered more than once for Stephen to join him, especially when he was gone for longer than a couple of days at a time. Stephen declined with a whuff and curled up on the couch to highlight his intention to stay. He had fallen into a routine that worked for him, and preferred to wait until the move was permanent before he had to disrupt that. At the very least, he thought it would be better to wait until everything was installed before he scouted out blind spots in the cameras and his ideal private areas. And he had to mentally prepare himself for the crowds of New York while he stood somewhere below hip height.

That wasn't to say that Stephen wasn't making his own preparations. He periodically made brief trips as a human to the site of Stark Tower throughout the building process. As formidable as the wards he'd set up around the Malibu mansion were, nothing beat rooting protective wards into the building process. The work was finnicky, almost fiendishly complicated making sure that everything slotted into place exactly over an extended period of time. But he had planned it out well in advance and was meticulous in his casting. His visits were quick, but not easy.

Stephen also had to decide how to deal with his mystical influence. It had taken him time to notice it spread throughout and beyond the city. With such a powerful sorcerer in residence, and his actions defending this world, he should have realized sooner that he would influence the feel of the area.

After some time considering it, he decided to leave it alone. It would fade on its own, and he could peek in every now and then. Plus, with Tony keeping the house, it was likely that they would be back eventually. No need for him to overcomplicate things.

Stephen did end up accompanying Tony to New York once the penthouse was close enough to finished that Tony would be staying for at least a week at a time. Neither of them really wanted to spend that much time apart. And, Pepper had discovered just how often Tony had been leaving Stephen completely alone with no one to take care of him.

Stephen was touched as he listened to her shout at Tony on his behalf. The only times he had seen her more upset were when Tony was in danger.

He also felt a little guilty. He and Tony both knew that of all the things she could be upset about, this wasn't one of them. Stephen could take care of himself.

Pepper had also impressed upon Tony Stephen's need for space, beyond just the large, open floors of his residence and the landing pad. It would mean frequent trips outside, and ideally to a nearby park. She obviously – and rightfully, he supposed – had her doubts about Tony willingly leaving his lab at regular or frequent intervals.

When Stephen first saw their new living space, he was overwhelmed. Not because of the sheer wealth and obvious expense, the space, or the advanced technology. But because he could see the cabinets, counters, and other furnishings had been carefully put together to create subtle climbing structures. Disguised perches were scattered throughout, he had found at least one hidden scratching post, and what floor wasn't covered by rugs and carpet still gave his paws traction so that he wouldn't be sent skidding with any sudden movements. The doors all had a style of handle that made it plausible for a dog to open. There were even designated windows that JARVIS controlled that opened wide enough for a bird to pass through.

Stephen's tail wagged so rapidly it created a breeze, and he couldn't help prancing a little in happiness at how generous Tony was. At this newest, touching reminder that Tony cared, that he accepted and wanted Stephen in his life. Even if Tony and Dr. Strange still had their barriers, at least Stephen had this.

The moment the man sat down, Stephen sprawled across his lap to hold him in place, and licked at his cheek.

Tony laughed and buried his fingers in Stephen's fur. "I take it you like my designs, then."

Stephen barked in agreement.

He spent the next few days exploring while Tony was busy elsewhere, committing the layout to memory and taking note of where he needed to be careful, and where he could probably hide if need be. He was taking advantage of his current privacy to practice climbing as a cat around the kitchen when something slammed into the windows.

Stephen couldn't stop himself from launching into the air with a shocked yowl. His paws scrambled a little when he hit the floor, fur standing on end. At least he could suppress the urge to lick it flat. Licking fur was absolutely disgusting, and he refused to ever have to deal with hairballs.

He gathered his wits and whirled around to see what on earth was flying so high. And froze.

The Cloak of Levitation was splayed against the window.

It must have been flying fast and distracted, he thought as he stared. It peeled itself off the glass, shaking itself a bit in what looked like embarrassment. He couldn't remember the Cloak accidentally slamming into something like that. Deliberately, yes. But not like someone walking into a screen door.

Stephen shakily gathered his scrambled wits, heartbeat loud in his ears. His tail flicked in agitation as he motioned for the Cloak to follow him, wondering if it would be able to read him in this form.

It must have, since it followed him around the outside of the high-rise and toward the landing pad. The moment he stepped outside, the Cloak scooped him up and swaddled him in its voluminous folds. Stephen barely had the presence of mind to ensure that the magic interfering with recordings was still in place, before transforming back into his human form. Slowly enough so that he didn't simply burst from its fabric.

It swung around his shoulders and squeezed him in its closest approximation of a hug. Then it just fluttered around him, giving off a very strong impression of refusing to leave.

"What are you doing here? How did you even get here?" he asked out loud, wrapping his fingers around a hem. Looking more closely, he could see it still shedding small pieces of glass. He suspected that it had escaped by simply crashing through its case and taking off.

Recalling the Ancient One mentioning something about excitement left in his wake when he'd first mentioned his brief visit to the New York Sanctum, Stephen wondered just how long the Cloak had been trying to get to him. Had it sensed him in the area? Even as far back as that first check? Now he had apparently been close enough for long enough that it could search out and find him. But why?

"Why?" he asked, clutching a corner to his chest. "I've missed you," he whispered. "So much. But you don't know me. How could you even choose me if I didn't set foot inside the Sanctum?" He supposed his Cloak in his home dimension had chosen him quite quickly upon his proximity to it. But that had been in the middle of battle, which might have sped up its decision. Had that bond affected this one? So much so that it would seek him out so desperately?

A corner of the collar patted at his cheeks, and Stephen laughed a little wetly. "I suppose I shouldn't question my good fortune. I encounter it so rarely.

"But even now. Even for you, I'm not ready to be human too often."

* * *

"Stephen?" Tony muttered blearily. His hand paused in the fur of his neck. The engineer was just coming down off a work binge, and was obviously trying to figure out what was different with this picture.

Tony squinted, gently hooking a finger beneath the soft, deep red collar. "How long has that been there?" he asked himself.

Then his brain seemed to kick into gear. "Shit. Was this a gift from Pepper? When did she put this on you? Why didn't you tell me? Could you not shift out of it?" He turned the collar, searching for the buckle and finding a gold clasp. "Here, let me get you out – "

Stephen ducked and backed out of his grasp.

Tony blinked. "Do you not want…? But you've been pretty vehement about not wearing collars." He frowned, gaze sharpening. "It isn't a gift from Pepper. Where did you get it, Stephen? And how did you put it on?"

Stephen was not prepared to answer that. So he inched forward and rested his head Tony's knee, looking up at him with large eyes.

"Oh, no," Tony said with little force. One hand scratched behind his ears, seemingly despite himself. "You can't cute your way out of this, asshole."

Stephen whined pitifully.

"Ass," the other man muttered. "JARVIS, where did this come from?"

"Unknown," the AI replied. "The collar appeared around Stephen's neck yesterday at around 11:00 in the morning."

Tony sighed explosively. "What the fuck, Stephen."

He looked down. Stephen looked back, and tried to think of how to appear even cuter. He wagged his tail a little clumsily. Normally it just happened without his thinking about it.

Tony groaned. "You really want it?"

Stephen nodded without lifting his head.

"Fine!" He threw his hands up. "Fine. Keep your damn secrets, but don't think I won't get to the bottom of them sooner or later."

Stephen snorted.

* * *

I've said before that I didn't - and still don't - intend to rewrite the entire MCU. I don't have the inspiration or motivation for covering every single movie in detail. This particular fic will end after the first Avengers movie. _However_, I have also decided that this will be the first part of a series. I am planning on writing shorter 1-3 chapter fics in this universe based on a few of the later movies. As of now Age of Ultron will probably be one of those, but it really depends on where my inspiration takes me. And the further down the timeline I get, the more it should diverge from canon (keyword: should). Just fyi.


	13. Chapter 13

Tony seemed almost as enamored of the Cloak as he had been of Stephen when he had first brought him home. Perhaps because Stephen's quirk was barely within the possibility of an actual mutation, whereas the red and gold collar around his neck was purely an inanimate object. So far as Tony was concerned, anyway.

Therefore, the way it still fit perfectly no matter what shape Stephen was in was kind of breaking his brain. Never mind the times the Cloak got bored and took on the shape of a bandana or miniature cape. He couldn't even run any tests since Stephen wouldn't let him touch the collar with sharp implements.

Not that they would be able to cut through it, but it was the principle of the thing. And to prevent the Cloak from feeling the need to retaliate in defense.

Tony was still trying to stop absentmindedly fiddling with it. The Cloak might be more tolerable of genuine accidental touches, but its first impression of the inventor was…not good. Fingers had been pinched on the false clasp. Excessively.

There had been a few more trips back to Malibu since the Cloak had first found him. Mainly to make sure everything Tony needed had been moved, and everything important that was staying had been cleaned up or tucked away. The first couple of years might necessitate Tony living on the East Coast, but he had never intended for the move to be either full time or permanent.

For now, they had settled in to their New York residence in the mostly finished Stark Tower. The residential floors had been the immediate priority once the Tower itself had been built, and now the company was nearly finished with the interior of the rest of the floors. The wiring had been completed a few days ago, which meant that Tony would soon be taking Stark Tower off the grid and hooking it up to an arc reactor.

Tony was actually just double-checking his numbers, humming under his breath, when something…happened.

Stephen was on his feet, growling, fur standing on end, before he knew what was happening. He'd been feeling something like an itch, like a whisper of static, off and on for the last hour. He couldn't place it, nor figure out what it was. When his restless shifting annoyed even himself, he'd flopped down on the floor and held himself unnaturally still. As if by forcefully ignoring it, it would either resolve into something he could identify or go away.

Something pulsed. Like sudden, bass thrum and a punch to the chest. His heart raced, even before understanding dawned. When his surroundings finally registered, he found himself growling at a wall, Tony hovering over him, words tumbling over themselves in his worry.

Stephen shook himself, trying to flatten his bristling fur. He licked the engineer's cheek in quick reassurance, and then immediately loped off to a bedroom. He needed more information before confronting anyone in person.

Because he'd felt the power of the Space Stone activating. And, more surprisingly, he'd felt the briefest flutter of a familiar magic signature.

If Asgard was finally taking custody of the Space Stone, the sorcerer could only be a bit relieved at that turn of events. But he hadn't gotten as far as he had by being a gullible or irresponsible fool. The activation of the Stone would no doubt cause problems. It was best to see what had been done with it, now that he'd been given a trail to follow.

_And_, he thought as his astral form slipped loose and appeared somewhere in the Mojave Desert, _just because I knew and, to a point, trusted the Loki of my universe, it doesn't mean that this version of him will be the same. Only that he could be, or might be._

Stephen appeared in the facility almost instantly, slowing as he approached the powerful energies emanating from underground. If he hadn't known Loki's magic so well, he might not have recognized it at all now that he was close enough to have a better read on it. There was something twisted about that signature. Something dark, scabbed, and bleeding that put him in mind of briars or barbed wire.

He drifted carefully into the cavernous room, erring on the side of caution and keeping well out of what he had estimated to be Loki's sensing range.

Now that he was close enough to observe with his third eye, he doubted that the Asgardian mage would have noticed him at all unless he was close enough to touch. Not that he would test that, of course.

Even just physically, the God of Mischief was in terrible shape. He was damp with sweat, hair lank and skin almost gray. He seemed malnourished as well, skin stretched tight over bone. There was something wild and mad about him – something desperate, perhaps. Stephen had only sparsely seen a more muted version of that pain in the sly, polished prince of his own world. And even then, that was generally after too long spent on battlefields.

Spiritually, it was almost worse. Like open sores and infection, like scabs ripped open again and again, like a butcher standing in for a surgeon. Like the very core of Loki's magic bound in iron and thorny vines.

Was there a reason this incarnation's eyes were blue instead of green?

_What happened to you?_

Stephen wasn't surprised when the Ancient One's astral form appeared at his side. The Order might not interfere in secret government agency business, but they would at least keep an eye on situations with this much potential to destroy the world. Especially if an Infinity Stone was present.

He hissed aloud when he saw the Loki press the scepter to an agent's chest. Their eyes turned an unnatural blue, but with Stephen's third eye, he saw the man's mind subsumed.

Now that he'd had a chance to trace a few of the threads – bindings, really – he recognized that parts of the barbed wire energy constricting Loki's spiritual self resonated with whatever was in the scepter.

Stephen had a sinking feeling that he knew what that was.

And some of the magic traces that stained Loki's being felt a little familiar as well. His suspicions were coming together, forming a premature conclusion that he really didn't like. His mind was making connections that he didn't want to acknowledge.

Was afraid to acknowledge.

"What happened?" he breathed.

The Ancient One drifted closer to him, and Stephen tried not to be distracted by memories of a hospital balcony, and the slow stretch of time as lightning crawled between frozen flakes of snow.

"I believe," she said, "that Prince Loki of Asgard fell. And he was found at last, but by no means saved."

It told him almost nothing. But Stephen supposed that he had already come to his own conclusions. He knew what torture looked like. He knew well the aftertaste of Ebony Maw's magic, teeth clenching as he suppressed a shiver of fear. He knew that there were too many Infinity Stones on Earth.

He knew the zealot who most likely sought them.

Stephen boxed up those thoughts and set them aside. There were more immediate matters to attend to. Could Loki be stopped? Could he be healed? And what was his plan?

Stephen clenched his hands into fists, helpless to do anything but chase after the god as the walls around him crumbled. That Loki had not immediately portalled away with both Stones was fortunate, in a sense. It meant there was a chance to prevent the Mad Titan from getting his hands on them.

On the other hand, it increased the likelihood of Earth's destruction, and left Stephen uncertain of the end goal.

"What will you do?" he asked the Ancient One as she kept pace with him. He passed stragglers in SHIELD uniforms and willed them to escape quickly. Much as he disliked the organization, he would never wish for people to die.

"I will alert the Order and prepare them to act as the last line of defense," she responded.

Stephen hissed as he reflexively dove to avoid a spiraling helicopter, and then glanced at its passengers to ascertain their well-being. It disoriented him just long enough for the speeding jeep to get too far ahead, and he cursed. He couldn't cast a tracking spell on a real-world object from the astral plane, and the Infinity Stones would be almost impossible to track unless they were being used for something big.

"_Damn_ it all." He was going to have to follow Fury to discover SHIELD's current base, and then keep an eye out to see if they managed to track down Loki. He'd have to try his own scrying as well, although he had no doubt that Loki was well shielded.

"The situation can still be salvaged."

Stephen started at the Ancient One's voice. He'd almost forgotten she was still there, so distracted by his thoughts. "How?" he said.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I have faith in you, Stephen."

He winced. "Should this not be the responsibility of the Order?" he bit out. Part defensive, part helpless anger, because he knew as well as she how carefully they had to move, and how freely a lone, unaffiliated sorcerer of his power and talents could act.

The Ancient One folded her hands before her. "Our hands are tied," she said. "We can only do so much from the shadows, and this is not an interdimensional threat, but an extraterrestrial one."

Stephen glowered. He hated alien threats. There hadn't been many in his world, but they were in many ways more complicated than demons and curses and the like by virtue of them being present on the very visible corporeal plane. Especially since, because the Order had to step in, they'd needed to keep _everything_ secret from the rest of the world.

Well, it looked like that wasn't his headache here. Or, the Order's headache. Government agencies already knew about the existence of aliens. This was SHIELD's mess. It was their job to figure out a way to deal with it, whether that was hiding it or handling the fallout.

"I will be stationed at the New York Sanctum, should you choose to stop by."

Stephen bit the inside of his cheek, hard. No doubt she knew that he would not be taking up that invitation.

* * *

Tony hadn't exactly been subtle in his excitement about hooking up his new tower to an arc reactor, describing at length how the building would become a beacon of self-sustaining clean energy. Stephen had already planned to say yes to the invitation when Tony finally built up to asking him.

And so Dr. Strange was present in the penthouse with Pepper while Tony went out in his armor to get everything ready. Tense, and surreptitiously leaving his body at regular intervals to check in on SHIELD's helicarrier base for any sign of Loki or the brainwashed agents. But, for the most part, present.

The meeting between doctor and CEO had been rather awkward. Pepper had eventually gleaned that Tony was seeing someone, but her friend's reluctance to impart details had her concerned and a little suspicious. On Stephen's part, it was hard to figure out how to react to someone he actually knew quite a bit about thanks to his secret life as a 'pet'.

"Have we met before?" she asked during introductions, with a quick, puzzled glance down at the gloved hand she was shaking. "You seem familiar."

Stephen blinked, mind spinning rapidly behind his cool exterior. Ah. "I think we might have met briefly a few years ago in Malibu. At the…fireman's benefit?"

"Oh, right. Yes, I think I remember." Her expression cleared a little. Conversation was a bit stilted, still, but Pepper had a gift for smoothing things over and not prodding at uncomfortable topics. It didn't take too long for the atmosphere to become more relaxed, especially when she bore witness to the couple somehow getting into a heated argument about dark and milk chocolate of all things. Let it not be said that their arguments weren't interesting, no matter the topic. She'd inadvertently derailed it by voicing a preference for white chocolate.

White chocolate was not chocolate, both he and Tony vehemently agreed.

By the time that Iron Man flew off, Tony and Stephen, and Tony and Pepper had more or less regained their usual back and forth, and Stephen and Pepper had reached an easy enough getting to know each other stage.

"You know, this is like the perfect creepy setting for an undersea monster movie," Tony interrupted his own absentminded technobabble, willing as always to follow a tangent.

"Maybe worry about not plunging Manhattan into a panorama of rioting and looting, first," Stephen suggested. He was sprawled on the couch, head tilted back and eyes closed as JARVIS kept open the connection between Tony's comms and the house speakers. Pepper sat at the holographic controls, monitoring the information more closely.

"Rude. Okay, first of all, would I risk accidentally draining power for the entire island of Manhattan?"

"Mistakes have been made."

"It wasn't Manhattan, and it wasn't an entire city either. _And_ this time I'm not drunk and you checked my math. So if something goes wrong it would be, like, 66% your fault."

"It would be 0% my fault. I'm not the engineer. I just checked your math, not the correctness of your equations."

"50% your fault, because you're distracting. You know you're distracting."

Stephen spluttered. "I do not – you're not – I am not distracting."

"You're distracting me right now. Pepper and JARVIS are my witnesses. Huh, Pep? Is he blushing right now? It sounds like he might be blushing, and I'm missing it. See? Distracting."

"I don't know, Tony, I'm paying more attention to the readings," Pepper said, voice both exasperated and amused. "Are you almost done?"

"Almost got it."

There was silence on the line, broken only by a sort of hissing sound in the background interrupted sporadically by mechanical clanking. It was easy to tell when Tony was on the move again and back in the air, though they didn't say anything until Tony let them know that everything was, "Good to go on this end. The rest is up to you."

Stephen lifted his head as Pepper double-checked that they were disconnected and off the grid, even as she prepared to 'flip the switch', so to speak. He smirked a little at their banter while Pepper activated the tower's power.

"How's it look?" Pepper breathed. They could tell that things had gotten brighter, but they couldn't get the full effect from inside.

"Christmas, but with more…me."

Stephen snorted at the sheer arrogance and pride in his tone. Though, it wasn't exactly undeserving. And then Pepper couldn't contain her own excitement, speaking quickly as she got caught up in the implications, her mind racing ahead to ideas of campaigning and spreading public awareness.

Tony interrupted before she could get too ahead of herself. "Pepper, you're killing me. The moment. Remember, enjoy the… Actually, real quick. Take a peak at Vincent and tell me if he looks like he's going to kill me." Obviously, he had just remembered their last exchange, and realized that the doctor hadn't said anything since.

"You know him better than I do, Tony," she said with obvious amusement.

"Yeah, but you actually have visual."

"You know I'm a pacifist," Stephen said, deliberately toneless. Though he couldn't quite help the twitch of his lips.

"Yep, I'm dead," Tony said under his breath, no doubt hoping that the noise of the suit disassembly machines would cover it. Then, louder, "I think you mean passive-aggressive, darling."

"They're not mutually exclusive terms, you know," Stephen replied.

"Oh, believe me. If I didn't before, I certainly do now."

JARVIS interrupted them. "Sir, Agent Coulson of SHIELD is on the line."

Stephen tensed, immediately getting up and heading straight for Tony. He cast out his senses while Tony rejected the call. He'd expected SHIELD to get in touch earlier. When that hadn't happened, he had assumed they would wait until they had discovered something significant. But unless he'd missed something, they were still looking for Loki, and it was too early for them to be desperate enough to request Tony's assistance in their digital surveillance. He certainly hadn't thought they would show up in the middle of date night.

And it was show up, not just an urgent phone call. The tower was mostly empty, so it was simple enough to pick out the energy of who he thought was Coulson as he entered the elevator.

"Grow a spine, JARVIS. I got a date," Tony said dismissively, free of the last of his armor. He grinned when Stephen met him at the door. "Hey, Stranger." Ignoring the obligatory eyeroll, he tugged Stephen into a kiss. It was a gentle move done so often now that the taller man relaxed into it instead of flinching. "Ready to celebrate?"

Stephen sighed, momentarily blocking out Pepper's presence so that he could rest his forehead against Tony's temple. "Something tells me it won't be that easy, tonight," he murmured.

Tony tilted his head back with a puzzled frown, but didn't get the chance to follow up.

"Levels are holding steady, I think," Pepper said once the two had separated. She was kind to give them the private moment, but they weren't quite done with the energy setup yet and she didn't want to chance any accidents.

The engineer hesitated, but Stephen motioned for him to join his friend and CEO.

"Of course they are," he boasted. "I was directly involved."

Stephen's attention shifted, tracking probably-Coulson's progress as he himself eased around the edges of the far too large and open room. Better to just leave the room completely. The stairs up to the bedroom suite were suddenly too close to the elevator for comfort, but he had time. He nodded to Pepper when she caught his eye with a frown, directed a half smile at Tony's worried expression, and disappeared as JARVIS suddenly informed him of his protocols being overridden.

He felt a flash of anger at that, but there was nothing he could do about it. He ought to be more worried about Pepper giving him away, but he didn't think it likely. She knew he preferred his privacy and respected it. She may give something away inadvertently, but nothing identifiable that would have SHIELD looking for him.

If they could even be bothered right now, or remember later, considering the current crisis.

Stephen stepped into one of the spare bedrooms and lay back on the bed. No telling how long Coulson would take, so he might as well be comfortable. Another check on the helicarrier base showed a lot of activity, though nothing that indicated Loki had been found. Probably still organizing themselves, and maybe recruiting for the SHIELD Initiative that Tony had complained about.

As soon as he returned to his body he sent out a ping through his tracking setup. No surprise, there was still no sign of Loki or the Space Stone.

With nothing else to do but wait, he settled into a light meditation. Not long passed before JARVIS said, "Pardon me, Dr. Strange, but Agent Coulson and Miss Potts have left the tower. Sir is still in the living room."

"Thank you, JARVIS," Stephen murmured as he stood up to make his way down the stairs.

Tony was still standing before the holographic display table, but the information scrolling past was much different. Several screens were showing footage, a couple of their subjects vaguely familiar. The large green man was not easily forgotten, though he'd only briefly seen shaky cell phone footage online when he'd first arrived in this universe. The man in the American flag took a few moments to place as Captain America.

This must be the Avengers Initiative, then.

Although Stephen was almost sure that Tony had seen him coming, the shorter man didn't give any indication, engrossed and worried as he was.

Stephen hesitated behind him, but the culmination of years – had it really been years? – with Tony's care allowed him to wrap his arms around Tony's waist and hook his chin over his shoulder. His skin still prickled a little, but he quickly settled into the warmth that he emanated.

He felt some of Tony's tension recede as he leaned back against Stephen's chest.

"That looks like trouble," he commented.

"Doc, it's a goddamn dumpster fire and I've barely started reading," Tony said tightly.

Stephen hummed. "It's a good thing that you succeed at whatever you put your genius mind to, then. Even if you set a few of your own fires along the way."

Tony choked out a laugh.


	14. Chapter 14

At long last, an update! Honestly, I'm not that happy with this one. Writing it was a bit like pulling teeth. Some days I only managed a couple of sentences. Maybe the trouble was that this was more exposition-y/observatory without much direct interaction. Still, I hope you like it, or at least don't think it's too terrible.

* * *

Stephen didn't stay for long once Tony delved into the information SHIELD had handed over. But he hesitated on his way out, looking back at his… His Tony. He wasn't sure if Thor had been included in the files, but he and Loki were brothers, for better or worse. It would be shocking – pun not intended – if the God of Thunder didn't show up at some point.

"Make sure your suit can handle a lightning storm, if it doesn't already," Stephen said abruptly. He watched as Tony jerked his head up, yanked out of his train of thought. "Just in case."

Ascertaining that Tony did, indeed, hear him, Stephen nodded and exited the floor.

In all their time together, Stephen still held tightly to his secrecy. Partly out of habit. Partly out of caution. But he'd softened around the edges as well, offering up advice and hints and thoughts about things that he shouldn't know. Offering up more and more pieces of himself.

He had no idea what Tony thought of his origins, of his past and his present, but he would be surprised if it was anything close to the truth. He was certain he hadn't left enough breadcrumbs for that.

Sometimes he had fleeting thoughts of telling Tony at least of the existence of magic. But it was too soon, wasn't it? Stephen's sense of time was skewed, he would admit. He had to think about it, to count the months, and then years. Two years wasn't that long, was it? Especially when they spent more time apart than together as humans.

As an animal, on the other hand, Stephen had spent the better part of four years in Tony's company. The problem being that Tony didn't know that his Stephen was also Dr. Strange. It made things rather one-sided in certain respects, which just had him circling back around to whether they could or should stay together, whether he should say anything to Tony and what he should say.

Whether it was even a good idea for the world at large, should Tony Stark discover magic.

This might have been one of the healthiest and most meaningful relationships he had ever had. He didn't want to lose it, but he wasn't sure how to keep it.

Thoughts spinning, he blocked it all out to focus on the current crisis. Regardless of his personal life, there were other things to worry about.

As soon as he was out of camera range, he portalled into one of the tower's blind spots and shifted into his cat shape to make his way to bed. He played a delicate sort of game to keep Tony from realizing that he had never seen Stephen and Strange in the same place at the same time. Occasional casual and off-hand comments about Tony's dog – how he was sleeping or made a good guard – to make it seem like the doctor had run across him. Sometimes making himself known in animal form the instant 'Vincent' left, as if he had been in the room or nearby all along. It seemed to have worked so far. The only hiccup might be if Tony outright asked JARVIS if the two had ever been in a room together, but Stephen couldn't imagine why he ever would.

He sighed and curled up on top of the bed, tucking his nose under his tail. He'd have at least a couple of hours to doze while his astral body was monitoring SHIELD's base and coming up with his own contingency plans.

If only he knew what Loki's goal was.

It was hours of bored, invisible hovering before there was any sort of commotion. Stephen had returned to his body only once to check on Tony. The inventor had welcomed him absently, at that point consumed by pages and pages of astrophysics.

Stephen dropped off a bottle of water and left him to it. He preferred to astral project in private than risk a panic if someone tried to wake him and couldn't. It wasn't uncommon not to feel something happening with his physical body while he was away, and it was _always_ a pain in the ass when his body disappeared on him.

In any case, it seemed like his patience had paid off for the moment. Fury's attention drew his, and he studied the computer screen, memorizing the background so that he could portal to it.

_Too obvious_, he thought. It was unlikely that Loki would be caught on security cameras unless he wanted to be.

But, trap or distraction, it was the only lead he had. The only lead _SHIELD_ had, and they were jumping on it. If nothing else panned out, he should probably be nearby to reduce collateral damage.

Stephen lingered only long enough to see who would be sent out on the retrieval team. Then he returned to his body, detouring to peek in on Tony. Who was also suiting up.

It was a tossup whether Fury had actually called him in, or if the genius had been keeping his own electronic eye out.

"Sir has gone on an emergency trip and does not know when he will return, although he believes it should not last longer than a day or three," JARVIS informed him the moment he sat up.

Stephen mewed in acknowledgement and appreciation. He stretched, claws kneading the blankets, before hopping down to the floor and exiting the bedroom. He had his own emergency trip to go on. Stuttgart, Germany was going to be popular tonight. If he was extremely lucky, he might be able to cut off the worst of the chaos before it even began.

But he wouldn't hold his breath.

Stephen stepped from bright afternoon into darkness, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the transition from overhead sunlight to twilit streets. No one paid any attention to him as he lingered across the wide street from what looked to be a museum.

The street lights were on, the sky darkening quickly as early arrivals trickled in. People in their formalwear lingered on the red carpets, the doors just opening for whatever gala was being held.

Stephen closed his eyes to better concentrate on the faint feeling of Loki's presence. The god wasn't trying very hard to remain hidden. Or perhaps he hadn't recovered much at all, had expended too much of his remaining power, and this was the best he could do.

The sorcerer drifted forward, the change from robes and Cloak to black suit and red tie instantaneous as he stepped onto the crosswalk. No one paid him the slightest bit of attention, not even as he squeezed past both doorman and security.

A gentle hand patted his tie as he looked around. This incarnation of the Cloak seemed much less reluctant to fold into such small shapes than his other. Perhaps it came of being required to spend so much time around Stephen's neck in one of his animal forms, since it didn't wish to be parted from him for long stretches of time. He wished that he could at least offer it a shape closer in size to its own, but the men's formal fashions of this time meant that even a dark red jacket would stand out. Every man he'd seen so far was in some shade of black.

The Cloak pressed subtly against his chest in either acknowledgment or reassurance.

He also wished, as he let the distraction field slip away, that he had learned German at some point. The closest he could come was Old Norse, which was hardly helpful when the speakers were modern Germans.

He had no idea what the gala was for, much less what Loki might want here.

Stephen moved towards the stairs with purpose, every inch of him looking as though he belonged. The string quartet was just warming up off to the side, flutes of champagne neatly arranged were available for the guests, and a lone microphone was standing at the base of the main staircase. Which probably meant…

The sorcerer was prepared when a man with a lanyard stepped forward on his approach. Without breaking stride, he flashed an illusory badge and passed unopposed. He needed the higher ground to keep a better eye on the entire floor without being immediately noticed, and he needed to search the upper floors to see if his target had set up somewhere unnoticed or left traps behind.

It meant that the areas beneath the second-floor walkway would be large blind spots, but he'd be able to see the ripple of the crowd in response if anything alarming happened, and he wouldn't be trapped within the throng of people and unable to act.

He also wouldn't be close enough to sense if a particular guest was, in fact, a shapeshifter, but he was banking on the Asgardian prince not having enough energy for that sort of disguise.

It took Stephen longer than he expected to search the upper floors, moving from the top down as he checked for traps and tried to track Loki's energy without being caught. It must have been well over an hour later when he'd reached one of the last offices on the second floor. The Asgardian had apparently spent his time there, and Stephen examined it closely, hoping for some sort of clue.

Of course, that was when the god himself strode past the, thankfully, closed door. Stephen thought his heart might have stopped for a moment, and he immediately yanked his magic in close. As careful as he had been to hide himself, panic and Loki's nearness had him contracting his energies to an uncomfortable degree.

Stephen breathed, pressed against the wall with one hand on the doorhandle, counting the seconds and estimating when Loki would reach the staircase. He eased the door open, peering out just far enough to check that the hallway was empty before stepping out and heading for the balcony area about a quarter of the way around from the main staircase. His tie twisted, stretched, and billowed into the Cloak. It levitated him just above the marble floors for the short distance, its attempt at helping him to move silently.

Stephen crouched just out of immediate sight of the people below, wishing that the lights weren't so bright as he approached the balustrade. Between the balusters, he caught sight of Loki making his way down the stairs.

Almost immediately, the near-skeletal male caught the attention of the rest of the crowd as he swung his scepter into the security guard who approached him, and then grabbed hold of the speaker to haul him over to a cracked, stone altar and slam him on top of it.

The attendees cried out in shock and froze in place, staring at the spectacle.

Stephen wanted to shout at them to move. To stop being useless fools and at least try to get out while they could.

Most of his concentration was focused on the spellwork hooked into and infecting Loki's core and free will. If he had any chance of freeing the god, he would need to study him closely with his third eye.

And if it also distracted him from one of the things he'd hated most about being Sorcerer Supreme…that was just a silver lining.

All of his self-imposed missions since arriving in this universe had been relatively straightforward. Not easy, of course, but the beings trespassing on this world wanted destruction, or enslavement, or were just lost, and many of the battles took place on a different plane or away from crowds.

This was the first time he'd been forced to choose in this world. To sacrifice one – someone aside from himself – to save many.

Because he didn't know how closely Thanos and his allies might be watching. How much they could see through Loki. He wanted to keep the presence of powerful magic on Earth as secret as possible.

And because, while Loki kept the Mind Stone close, the Space Stone was still hidden. Stephen might have decades with which to search for it, but there was no telling what its current guards would do in the meantime. Not to mention that the puppet master would know exactly where to go to pick it up, and wouldn't let anything get in his way. The last thing the sorcerer wanted was Thanos setting foot anywhere near Earth, much less on it.

Also partly because it was ingrained to keep magic a secret from the general public, and any move he made here would of necessity be public. Although of course he valued lives more than secrecy, and without a background here, unaffiliated with Kamar-Taj, it would be easy to sell himself as Asgardian or something.

Stephen's jaw clenched when the man thrashed and screamed, his voice soon drowned out by the screams of fleeing attendees. He slipped into the calm mindset of a surgeon mid-procedure. The god appeared to be extracting an eyeball with some sort of purely human technology. Necessary for a retina scan, probably. He couldn't think of anything else an eyeball might be used for in this time and place. So who was this speaker and what did he guard? What was Loki after?

Stephen didn't recognize the man at all, and didn't know if he was supposed to. For all the reading he'd done in an attempt to acclimate, he wasn't exactly on par with a native. He had enough trouble separating the similar histories of the two universes in his mind.

He was glad when the man passed out. At least he could escape the pain for a little while, but the shock might still kill him.

Stephen's heart was racing; he ignored the shards of pain as he clenched and unclenched his fists in his impatience. The moment Loki reached the doors as he stalked after the fleeing crowd, Stephen launched himself over the balustrade. He trusted the Cloak to direct him safely to the victim's side as he sent an eavesdropping spell trailing after the god. He would hear whatever was happening outside, and see it whenever he closed his eyes.

Then the doctor set to work. This might not be his specialty, but he did know enough not to make things worse. He'd picked up quite a bit of field medicine over the centuries.

Honestly, unless the man went into shock, this type of injury was unlikely to result in death. So long as the device did not reach beyond the eyeball, of course, or introduce some sort of infection.

A twitch of his fingers summoned sterile wipes, tape, a dome-shaped eye shield, and a heavy blanket. Only a corner of his mind paid attention to the noise outside – screams and sirens, mostly – and the glimpses of chaos whenever he blinked. Working as quickly as he could, Stephen wiped away some of the blood and secured the shield to the socket, knowing better than to put any pressure on it. One of the most basic of spells was applied to subtly promote healing and discourage infection.

Then he undid the bowtie, ripped open the jacket and shirt, untucked the layers tucked into his pants, and wrapped him up in the thick blanket. Scattered buttons were a small price to pay, he thought. Since his hands weren't up for anything less damaging tonight.

More and more of his concentration shifted to what was happening outside, and by the time he'd gotten to the blanket Stephen was keeping one eye closed. The double vision was a rather disorienting, but Loki's speech was a concern. Not just grandstanding, but fervent and mad and contradictory.

"What the hell?" he muttered to himself as he checked on the unconscious security guard. Alive, still, but it was best not to move him until the paramedics got to him. About to leave now that there was nothing more he could do inside, he realized that he should probably let emergency services know. They'd probably received calls already, but Loki's grandstanding might have distracted from the injured men, and the god had already blown up at least one police car.

Did Loki honestly believe that humans were made for subjugation? And what did that say about the one who desired to rule them?

The speaker's phone was fished from on of his pockets, and Stephen placed a glowing hand on the screen, concentrating on the text of the message he was sending to emergency dispatch.

He closed his eyes just long enough to see the illusions flicker again. Then he headed for the exit and slipped into the shadows, only canceling his eavesdropping spell when he was within hearing distance.

This grandstanding was far more like Thor than Loki. And the god's magic appeared so weak, he barely seemed able to hold illusions of himself. Even if he disdained humans, thought them weak and so far beneath him, it was foolish to put on such an obvious and public display while hobbled.

Stephen frowned, examining the area around him. There was a trap in this somewhere. Obviously. In addition to a distraction.

He jerked when the scepter was leveled on an old man standing among the kneeling crowd. His fingertips grew warm with the urge to protect. But he could also sense the approach of one of SHIELD's quinjets. And if he could sense it then so could Loki, yet still he hesitated just long enough for the Captain to leap down.

Stephen's fingertips grew hotter as the pair fought in the middle of a fleeing crowd. He was prepared to shield the bystanders if it became necessary, but surprisingly enough any ricochet missed without is interference.

"Don't you dare," he snarled when some sort of large gun extended from the bottom of the plane, armed and ready as someone commanded Loki to stand down. "Don't you _dare_ open fire in that crowd." It wouldn't stop or even really slow the god, but it could massacre the people around him.

Thankfully, the SHIELD agents seemed content for now to let the Captain get tossed around. And before it could go on for too long, Iron Man made his very on brand grand entrance. Complete with theme music.

Stephen rolled his eyes but couldn't help a small smirk. "Show off," he muttered.

He stayed long enough to watch them load the god onto the jet before attaching a tracking spell to it. He wouldn't be able to remain hidden from Loki if he tried to accompany them invisibly. The power required was too great for him to overlook in such close proximity, no matter how crippled Loki's magic might be at the moment. Plus, there was a good chance that someone would just run into him. The space was rather small, after all.

No, from here on it, Stephen would return to the Tower and then follow them in his astral form, until and unless his physical presence was required. Just in case they weren't heading to the helicarrier, he wanted to be able to find them. And Loki obviously wanted to go to wherever they were taking him, so Stephen wouldn't worry too much about any escape attempts until then.

The sorcerer portalled back, shifted mid-step, and then bolted down food and drink before curling up on a bed to send out his astral form. He would need the energy, and he'd learned to take breaks for water and food where he could. This might be his only chance for quite some time.

When his astral body returned to the marker he had placed, the quinjet had paused, hovering almost stationary in the air above a forest. And nowhere near the helicarrier. Its interior was alarmingly empty of anyone aside from the two pilots.

_Not a good sign_, he thought, fingers twitching. He floated in the direction of their gaze, searching the trees for some sign of the missing people.

A lightning strike certainly caught his attention.

"Dammit," Stephen muttered. Just what they needed. A volatile warrior prince in the middle of an already volatile situation. And who knew what was going to happen with the two brothers.

As he sped closer, he caught the familiar light of the repulsor boots rocketing through the air. It was too far away to see clearly, but Stephen assumed the other shape caught up with the armor to be Thor by the glimpse of a red cape and the feel of the large body. The two figures, locked together, streaked through the air, slammed against a rocky outcropping, and then slammed back into the forest in an explosion of splinters and dirt.

But where was…? Stephen spun, following the fain sense of the younger prince and managed to make out his shape sat upon a rocky ledge overlooking the battling figures.

No one was watching him. No one was standing guard.

"Loki had _better_ have cursed you two," Stephen growled. Though he knew it was just two irresponsible, hot-headed, impulsive alphas butting heads. "Idiots!"

He could feel the protection spells he'd placed on the arc reactor in Tony's chest alerting him of the danger, and drawing energy to protect against Thor. Point to this God of Thunder; he honestly seemed less blood-thirsty than the one he'd known. Stephen was surprised the blonde wasn't raging, or shouting about the glory of battle.

How had Loki fallen into Thanos' hands, anyway? How long had he been prisoner, and what did his family know of it? Stephen couldn't guess at what the Asgardians planned to do at this stage, but he certainly couldn't depend on any of them to put Earth and its people first.

He ached to intervene with the fight, to get them to focus. To use his sharp tongue to expel at least some of his own tension and worry. He didn't like just standing by and watching while Tony was in danger. Even with the protection spells, it wasn't enough to quell his concern.

But he didn't want to leave Loki unsupervised either. Yes, he wanted to go where they were taking him, but that didn't mean he wouldn't cause some sort of mischief or delayed sabotage along the way.

Captain America's sudden presence – seriously, why was the uniform so _gaudy_ – gave them pause, but Stephen feared he'd soon be watching a fight with an extra player and renewed enthusiasm.

He flinched back, shouting in surprise when Mjolnir struck the shield, the collision decimating the trees around the two in the aftershock. At least it also appeared to shock the trio back to their senses.

Long enough to collect Loki and make their way to the helicarrier, at any rate.


End file.
